Tudor London
by Amberdeengirl
Summary: "You are a murderer, Edward Masen; you will never, ever deserve love." Newly orphaned Isabella is taken to the rich house of Lord Carlisle Cullen, and soon finds that dark goings on lie beneath the dirty streets of London...and entrancing danger lurks within the emerald eyes of the mysterious Lord Edward Masen.
1. Chapter 1

Right, I shall keep it short because it's currently midnight and I'm worn out:

:D I should be writing Clair de Lune, I know, but my laptop has literally died and I'm picky about environments :D

But I was making coffee the other night and idea popped into my head and...

...here we are!

From Ballet to Elizabethan London!

**Please review and, most importantly...**

**ENJOY!**

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'I love you' are words not often spoken in my time. Indeed, there is little one can do with such a line, except for a playwrite, who may toss it into his prose and send a raucous of milkmaids swooning to him.

_Love is a luxury I will never have, _I thought dully as the carriage clunked over a stone bridge. Do not presume to think me a romantic sort – I was only thinking of this irritating noun because an old landlady in the last village we had stopped at had patted me on the back sympathetically and said I must have loved 'him' very much. No, if I had loved anything about him then it was only the money and safety he had provided me with.

My father was killed not two weeks ago in a disagreement over pricing. I knew he had been in shady business – I had discovered the money laundering tools in the disused wine cellar of our house. I hadn't said anything – I knew it would do neither me or him any good; my father was greedy, and he would not have listened to my pleas to stop. He had been a well respected fur merchant until the truth had gotten out after his death. Now our family – which consisted only of me – was in disgrace. Disgraced and penniless.

The horses stalled for a moment in the middle of the road. I had been travelling for a long time, but I could not sleep. One would expect me to mourn, but I could not. Like I said, love was not something I had had. We had not been close, and aside from the few times he had come to my room to give me the belt, we were hardly present in each other's lives. Even though he was the sole reason I was not on the street, begging or sleeping my way to a meal, I simply couldn't mourn his death.

Selfishly, though, I mourned my own situation. We had been part of the aristocracy, and the local magistrate had at least had the decency to ensure I had somewhere else to go. But that place was the one place I had never dreamed of going: London. The canals of Venice, the beaches of Southern France, the green hills of Ireland…but never London. I had lived in the countryside all my life. I had loved the open air, the fields and the starry nights. London, I had heard, was the entire opposite of all this.

But it was the only place where I had relatives.

The Cullens.

I knew very little about them – my father, it seemed, had not even known of their existence. From the little information I had scraped up before leaving, I had found only that Lord Carlisle Cullen was a prominent member of parliament, and that he had a wife and children. I knew nothing of his temperament, or even what blood I shared with him.

We were approaching the city walls. For at least a mile now, we had been passing playhouses and brothels, taverns which emitted the sound of drunkards, and gambling houses which did not even bother hiding their illegality – it seemed that outer London was the high place of crime. _My father would have loved this,_ I thought bitterly.

Rain fell from the gloomy sky as we reached the walls. I bit back a scream and turned away from the window – the walls were adorned with severed heads. "A little reminder, innit, girl?" Called the coachman. "Don't be a naughty lass, or you'll be the one welcoming the guests of London."

I shivered a little as we passed under the portcullis. I was sure I would never forget those bulging eyes.

But for the moment, at least, I was distracted. We had entered London proper. I once again craned my neck to look out of the window. Though it was evening, the streets were crowded. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry.

"Move, you lazy bleeders!" Yelled the coachman as we slowed. People stared up at me, people who were dressed in sodden rags, their faces hollow and thin. I moved my eyes up, terrified by their looks. The houses were tall and cramped together. People leaned out, calling to those on the street. A woman poured out brown-looking liquid from a high story. I swallowed. A herd of cattle was getting whipped along beside the carriage.

Suddenly a hand slammed against my window. I pulled back, urgently looking through the small window to the coachman, but he hadn't seemed to have noticed. I looked back out again. The face of a grimy man was pressed against the glass, giving me a toothless smile. I stared back, trying not to shake. What did he want, what was it? Eventually he dropped away. I sat frozen. More hands clamoured against the windows.

"Money, milady!" Their muffled voices came through the window. But before I could reach for my purse, we were moving again.

I didn't look after that, and looked down at my clenched hands.

Gradually, the streets became less crowded. The houses were better cared for – some even had proper gardens out fronts. Now we passed maids and servants, hurrying along the pavements, trying to keep out of the rain. A nanny walked by clucking at two children, who were demanding to go home. Nerves shot through me. I knew nothing of what to expect. Eventually we came to a halt. _Breathe in, breathe out, Isabella – there's no need to be afraid..._

But I couldn't convince myself of that.

The coachman hopped down and opened my door, holding out his callused hand. I gulped and shakily got out into the downpour. My pale green dress was immediately spotted with raindrops. It was one of my least favourites, but it was the only one I'd been allowed to keep. It was tight right up to my neck, exposing no skin except my hands and face. My corset was constricting, but at least they'd let me keep it. "It's that one there, Miss," said the driver.

I looked where he pointed.

The house was the usual white with black wooden framing, but it was massive – three levels high with steeped roofs and several chimneys. It stretched two times as far down the street as its neighbours. My father's house had been much smaller than this – and I had heard that the houses of London were meant to be miniscule in comparison to those of the countryside.

"Thank you," I said to the coachman.

He nodded and tipped his hat and got back onto the carriage.

I was left alone on the pavement. My dress and the small, near empty purse hidden under my skirts were my only possessions. The large and oppressive house in front of me was my only hope.

I took a deep breath, telling myself it would not be seemly to arrive utterly drenched. My nerves threatened to suffocate me now. There was no reason for them to accept me. The lawyer had sent word to them of my situation, but they were not obliged to accept me into their household. That damnable lawyer…he had helped me so far as the magistrate had made him, but no more. When I had demanded to know what would happen to me if the Cullens did not take me in, he had shrugged and muttered that one of the playhouse brothels might 'take me in'.

My hands shook as I opened the black iron gate and went down the garden path. _I must be confident…they won't want someone who is nervous and childish…_I lifted the heavy lion's head door knocker and banged on it twice.

It was opened almost immediately by a footman dressed in black and navy blue livery. He regarded my attire – it was far too cold to be out in simply a dress – and then looked at my face, which I knew from the odd glance in a looking-glass was thin and pale. "We don't accept beggars," he said, and began shutting the door.

"No!" I cried out desperately, putting a hand against it. "I'm Isabella Swan," he looked at me disdainfully. "I – I was told I could speak to Lord Carlisle, about possibly...living here…"

He raised his eyebrows sceptically, "Staying here?"

I nodded earnestly. He smiled slightly. He believed me…But then he began shutting the door again. "I think you're looking for Southwark, girl."

"No! I – "

"Let her in, Bernard," came a man's voice. I looked behind 'Bernard' to see a tall middle-aged man. He was blond, with a neatly trimmed beard and sharp dark eyes. He was dressed in a rich blue and gold fitted doublet and hose. My father had not been allowed to wear such finery. "Isabella Swan?" He asked. His voice was authoritive and calm.

"Yes, my Lord," I said, curtsying.

"I am Lord Carlisle, owner of this house," he said, even as he looked me over – I prayed he would not assume me to be a beggar as well. But his face was passive, and I lowered my eyes respectively. "Come out of the cold, child," he said eventually. Bernard opened the door wider, and I nervously stepped into the hallway. It was warmly lit with brackets of candles attached all down the papered walls. Wallpaper, I knew, was a luxury even my father could not afford.

Lord Carlisle turned back down the hall, and I followed, unsure of what was going to happen. The house was quiet as he led me up a flight of stairs. I felt so small in my drab dress and damp hair, walking up the polished wooden steps, following a man surely dressed as finally as the late King himself. We stopped at a landing and he led me down another corridor to a door, which he unlocked with a small golden key. "I trust your journey was pleasant?" He asked as he opened the door and ushered me in.

I found myself in an office. The walls were lined with shelves and shelves of books, and a fire crackled in the small, gold encrusted hearth. The room was mainly dominated, though, by a large desk. A map of what I assumed to be London lay on it, as well as piles of neatly stacked parchment and an inkwell. "Yes, my Lord," I remembered to reply. No one ever said it, but I was sure it was common etiquette – always give the expected answer, because the asker generally does not care. My journey had been far from pleasant – I was going to a place I had only heard badly spoken of, and I was not certain I would even have safety when I got there. I _still _wasn't, I reminded myself.

"Sit, please," his Lordship ordered, already seating himself behind the desk. I sunk into a chair opposite him, my mind stressing. He rested his hands on the desk. "So I understand that you seek shelter in my household, Miss Swan?"

"Yes, my Lord," I said.

He nodded gravely, "I don't suspect you know what connection I have to your…" he looked away distastefully, "less than amiable father?"

"No, my Lord."

He nodded again, "I don't, rather fortunately – one's reputation can be terribly ruined when a relation becomes someone of ill repute, as we have seen with yours."

I blushed as he looked at me.

"You can see why I am anxious to allow you lodgings in this house?" He said. My heart thudded nervously. He was going to send me away…I _was _going to end up in the playhouses, just as my lawyer said.

"My family is in very good standing at the moment. That makes me have extremely important power in parliament." he leaned forward, looking directly at me. I wanted to look away, but I was even more fearful not to. "Allowing a girl whose only family is in total disfavour into my house would not be a wise step. You see, Miss Swan, your father had quite the reputation here in London. He didn't just cheat other thugs like himself – he cheated noblemen. _Powerful _noblemen – ones who would have been just as happy to cut his throat as any of the outlaws he dealt with. So you can understand why your reputation will undoubtedly tarnish my own, yes?"

I nodded, because I had to. My heart had now frozen. My father…dear God, what had he been thinking? Cheating off men so high up…

Lord Carlisle sighed, "Do not look so desolate, child. I would not leave you to the hounds of the streets. London is not kind to pretty young ladies such as yourself. You shall lodge here for as long as is needed before we can find a man willing to risk marrying you." He spoke of me as if I was a horse too wild to be broken in…but, I realized, he was right; I was a danger.

"You are most kind, my Lord," I said stiffly, bowing my head.

"Do not expect much," he said sharply, "I have connections but none of them would wed their sons to a girl of your standing. Expect lower gentry, perhaps, but nothing more."

I nodded.

"Good, then," he said, standing up. He went to a gold threaded bell pull by one of the windows and pulled it twice.

I stood as well, "My Lord?" I said nervously.

He looked at me.

"Well I…I just wondered what connection you _do _have to my family?" I was putting him through so much risk, as he had just explained, why _was _he allowing me to stay?

Lord Carlisle's expression changed. He looked out the window, an ancient sadness in his eyes. "Your mother was a great friend of mine," he said quietly. "I promised her that I would make provision for you if things went amiss…" he trailed off.

There was a soft knock on the door, and a young maid entered. "You rang, my Lord?"

Carlisle broke his suspended gaze and nodded. "Show Miss Swan to the white room, Miranda – and go to Madame Tulle's in the morning – I daresay you will need some new clothes, Miss Swan, if you are to fit rightfully in here."

She curtsied to him, and I took my leave, also bobbing a curtsy in thanks.

The maid led me once again to the stairs, and we went up another story. Here, there were doors lining both sides of a long and dark corridor. My mind was whirring. Lord Carlisle had known my mother...known the mother who I myself had never known. She died giving birth to me. My father had not spoken of her, except for the one time when I asked about her. Then he had given me the belt and as he had he had yelled at me that_ 'the whore had the same damned brown eyes as you, girl!' _

The maid had shown me into a small room at the very end of the corridor. Like Lord Carlisle had said, the walls were painted an almost shining white, and the single, four poster bed had the same plain white sheets. It was lit by the fire flickering in the hearth. I stepped in, looking over the small writing desk and neat rose embroidered curtains. Outside, the rain beat down, but inside it was warm, and safe…and for now, at least, it was my room. My place.

"Will you be needin' anything, then, ma'am?" Asked the maid.

"No, thank you," I said quietly. She curtsied and left.

I took a match from the mantel piece and began lighting the candles on the walls. I stared at the tiny flames. I wished I knew more about my mother. I would have to have the courage to ask Lord Carlisle more about her. All my life, I had been influenced only by my father. I was not fit to judge myself, but if I was then perhaps I would have been surprised that I myself had not taken to fraud and cheating like him.

Perhaps it was because I had been scared of my father and his sinister visitors. I had curled myself up in a corner of the attic with a stack of books had sunk into the flowing lines of _'The Faerie Queene'._ I knew I was by no means a lady worthy of kindness or distinction. I did little for others – wrapping myself up in the booI could never help but think how different my life might have been with a mother…

I snapped away from the candle bracket. There was need to indulge in such daydreams. It was like love; a pointless luxury because it could never come true.

I sat down on the bed. Immediately weariness overcame me. Now that I knew I had at least a temporary place to stay, and that I had gotten through the streets of London, the stress that had been keeping me from sleep had seeped away. Try as I might, I fell asleep to the face of a smiling, brown-eyed woman…

\*\*/*/

"EDWARD!"

I shot up in bed to the cry of a young girl somewhere in the house. I heard quick footsteps going down the stairs. Quickly I stood, wondering if there was some sort of emergency. Oh Lord; what if it was one of those fires that London was so well known for? Nerves struck me, and I was wide awake. I hurried out of my room. There were voices coming from downstairs, authoritive orders being called by a woman.

"Fetch me water and bandages, Miranda! And some whisky would not go amiss!"

I heard a man moan. He sounded in pain.

I slowed as I was reaching the foot of the stairs. One of the doors down the hallway was open, and inside was a group of people crowded around someone. The man, I guessed, though I could not see him.

"It was a trap," he said, breathing heavily. "Gurchison, he knew I was coming…ah!" He gasped.

"Did they find out who you were?" Asked another man, dressed in a dark satin doublet and breeches. He did not face me, but he was impossibly tall and muscular.

"No," grunted the injured one. "The bastards weren't _that _fast."

The muscular one laughed, "Don't worry, Mother; we'll know he's dying when he shows some modesty."

"Silence, Emmett," said the woman, "Do not speak of death when he is in the room with us."

"Oh why do you do it, Edward?" Pleaded a girl's voice. I couldn't see her over the heads of the others, but she sounded very young. "Father says there are other ways…"

"That's where your father and I have a disagreement, fair cousin," said the man. "Do not worry, I'm always careful."

"Yes we can certainly see _that," _said another lady sarcastically. She stood next to the muscular one. Her dress was crimson with intricate gold lacing. Her blond hair was partially loose, flowing down her back like silk.

"What has Gurchison done anyway, Edward?"

"My connection found a new bill for parliament on his desk," said 'Edward'. He gave a grim, weak laugh, "It wasn't to my liking. If it had reached parliament then he has enough influence to pass it."

"That is not for certain, Edward," came the clear and authoritive voice of Lord Carlisle. He'd stepped into the view of the door, looking calm with his hands clasped behind his back. "I have also heard of what he wishes – I could have prevented it. There was no need to kill him."

I gasped. Six pairs of eyes suddenly flicked to me.

"Who is she?" Snapped the blond lady, a severe expression on what seemed to be a surreally beautiful face. I blushed and looked down.

I knew I had walked in on a conversation far more private than I'd originally realized.

"How much did you hear?" Demanded the muscular man.

"L – little," I managed to get out.

Lord Carlisle stepped in front of the group. "She is our new guest, Emmett." I was forced to look at him, feeling his powerful gaze on me. "Isabella, you ought to know it is rude to enter a room announced. I will expect better next time."

"Yes my Lord," I whispered, curtsying. I had ne'er felt so small in all my life, people dressed in the richest finery I had ever seen staring at me so condescendingly.

His Lordship nodded, "You may return to your room, then. Dinner is not until seven." He turned to the others, "The rest of you may also leave – I would like an audience with Edward alone."

Their gazes snapped from me as the bowed and curtsied to Lord Carlisle. As they moved, I caught a glimpse of the man. He lay on a richly embroidered lounger, shirtless, though his muscular chest was covered with blood. A ghastly slash reached from his shoulder down to the centre of his chest. But my eyes did not linger on his injury for long, for then I saw his face. He had messy bronze hair, and a classical, pale face with a strong jaw and straight nose and perfect…perfect lips. But for the briefest of moments he looked at me with the most vivid green eyes. He swiftly looked away, and the door shut on the room.

I stood frozen on the stairs, for it was true; I had never seen such a handsome man in my seventeen years on this Earth.

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Okay, must be off for some 'zzzz'

Please read Clair de Lune (it's a bit longer with just over 70 thousand words, so you might be further occupied)!

**And if you would like see this continued, please send me a Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

Hello hello hello!

Hehe, so if you randomly got an update email about 'Tudor London' and went 'eh? What's that?', then I don't blame you.

Clair is my first priority at the moment (utilitarian thing; I have more readers for Clair, so they come first).

However, I have awful writer's block for it, and I owed it to Isabella and Lord Edward to continue on their story.

If you've read my A/N for Clair, then you'll know that I've been having some difficult times at present, and I haven't had much time for writing. But hey, here I am!

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed!**

**The first chapter's always an experiment, and it's always good to know the lab didn't explode!**

**Cheers!**

Alright, so please review

and

ENJOY!

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_A __handsome man, but a murderer, _I reminded myself. Quickly, I had turned on my heel and was hurrying back up the stairs. _"There was no need to kill him…" _Perhaps Lord Carlisle meant it in a political sense…perhaps he had killed the _bill _they had spoken of…or perhaps he had somehow killed his power in parliament…

_Don't be ridiculous, Isabella__, _I snapped at myself, _his Lordship's words were as plain as day…_

I reached my room and went in, my skirts swirling around me as I quickly shut the door. Sweet Lord, I had ne'er had two such opposite emotions both raging through me, like a wildfire and a rushing river…his eyes had made me shiver in delight, his face had been so strong and wise…but he had _killed…_murder was worse than what my father had done. To take another life…to end a mind, a soul…

I bit my lip. I knew I ought not to think of it at all. It was clear that the murder was to be kept a secret – one which I was not intended to be privy to. The selfish side of me shone out. I was a guest in their household – if I were to tell anyone about this murder they spoke of, then I would most certainly be thrown out – I didn't want to be thrown on the street. And…I did not want to lose sight of those beautiful green eyes...I swallowed and took a deep breath. I needed something to do.

I opened the drawers of the night table, hoping to find something. But no, my room was empty. I knew it would not be filled. I began picking at a thread on my dress, trying to recite to myself _The Faeirie Queen. _The Knight and the lady…in the forest…a _murderer…_

I was saved from my thoughts by a knock on the door.

"Yes?" I squeaked out.

The same maid, Miranda, came in and curtsied. "Lord Carlisle wishes to see you briefly before dinner. He says I am to bring you down to the Drawing Room."

I nodded, fear shooting through me. Oh god…oh what was he going to do? Was I to be thrown out because I knew too much? What if they…I had heard it happened…sometimes…what if they killed me? To make sure I did not tell anyone. I gulped as Miranda led me down the stairs into the same room that the conversation had been in. She opened the door. Trying to control my breathing, I went in. None of the other people I had seen were in here now, though there was a basin filled with blood-tainted water next to the chaise lounge which Ed – the murderer had been lying on.

His Lordship stood by the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back. At my entrance, he turned.

"Miss Swan, your Lordship," Miranda announced with a sharp curtsy, then left. The door clicked shut behind her.

"Do not bite your lip, Miss Swan," said Lord Carlisle, "It is not becoming of a young woman."

I released my lip, my nerves only heightening more with his judgements.

He began walking towards me. His boots were loud in the silent room. He stopped but a foot away from me. I looked up, praying to God for mercy. "Now, Miss Swan; what you heard earlier. Do you understand me when I say it is a...delicate subject?"

I bowed my head, "Yes, my Lord."

"And so you shall speak of it to no one?"

"No, my Lord."

"And you shall take care not to linger in doorways unto which you have not been invited?"

"Yes, my Lord."

He nodded, satisfied, "Good child." He walked away from me, over to the window, overlooking a rose garden. "You will apply these principals tonight; we are having some colleagues of mine to dinner. You will not speak unless you are spoken to, and you are to keep from the subject of your family if at all possible. There is one particular guest who has had..." he turned to me, his lips pressed together, "dealings with your father. Do you understand?"

I nodded hastily. I wanted no more trouble from my late father than his Lordship did.

"Very well, you may leave." He turned back to the window, a clear dismissal.

"My Lord?" I asked nervously.

"Yes?" He looked to me again.

"What of your family? Do they know about me?"

"No, Miss Swan, no they do not," he looked away, his face bitter, "I do not care for secrets within my family, however this is as much for their own safety as it is for my reputation. Lady Esme knows a little. The children know only that you are the daughter of a friend who has died. I have told them not to question you – that you are upset about your loss. You will be nondescript in my family, Miss Swan. And you will marry soon enough..." he sighed, a hand to his temple the only sign of discomposure. "Your life and theirs must be separate."

"Yes, my Lord," I said with a curtsy, anxious to be away. I did not need reminding of my state. Of just how far I had fallen.

He dismissed me once more and I left, walking quickly back up to my room.

It was an hour later when I heard the bell ring for dinner. I tugged on my skirts and ran a hand over the back of my plait. It was coming loose. I knew I would not pass for the young lady his Lordship wished me to be. _But, Isabella, you _will _try, _I ordered myself. I took a deep breath and exited my room.

The Great Hall was at the end of the bottom floor corridor, with two big double doors. The doorman went in first, "Miss Isabella, your Lordships."

I went in. Perhaps I would have looked at the lavish brocade of the drapes, or the intricately carved fireplace or the hundreds of candles in the crystal chandelier. But no. The massive dark wood table filled the room, and seated at it were nine people, all their eyes on me. All but three of them I recognized from the drawing room...a pair of sharp green eyes pierced into my vision. Oh sweet God, 'twas him...I looked down.

His Lordship, who sat at the head of the table, stood, drawing away their stares for a moment. "Children, Lords; this is my guest, Isabella. She has just arrived from the country..." I tried to give the polite smile which etiquette told me to show, but those from the drawing room cared not for etiquette. They glared openly. His lordship continued, "Isabella, this is Emmett, my son," he gestured to the muscular man who'd terrified me earlier.

I managed to curtsy. He gave back a curt nod. "His wife, Rosalie," she was the blond lady sitting next to him. From the front, I saw her swollen belly. She was with child...kept from the company of women most of the time, I had yet to see a woman with child...Lord, it looked like a heavy burden...I swallowed and curtsied again. She just pursed her lips. "And we have my daughter, Alice, her fiancé Lord Jasper."

I could not work out who he was speaking of until he gestured to the tiny girl sitting across from Emmett. She looked no older than twelve, with bright eyes and a small, pointy face. She gave me a smile. It was small...but it was something. Next to her, sitting rigid in his chair was Lord Jasper. He was dressed in an expensive green and grey doublet, and there was a massive jewel below his shoulder, which was the clasp for a scarlet cape. He gave me a pressed smile, "Miss Isabella." He was her fiancé?

Lord Carlisle then gestured down to the end of the table, "My wife, Lady Esme, and her nephew, Lord Edward."

I tried to keep my vision on the lady who gave me a demure smile, but I could not help but look at Lord Edward, now that had an excuse. He did not look at me. He was watching his finger run round the rim of his goblet, his expression bored. He wore only a white shirt and a sleeveless doublet. I could see the edge of the bandage under his collar. _Killer..._

"And lastly we have Lord Iren and Lord Talmey," Lord Carlisle gestured to the two men who sat on either side of him. His eyes glinted as I looked at Lord Iren, and I realized he was the one my father had had dealings with. He had brown hair and a carefully cropped beard. His face was stiff and serious. Lord Talmey, however, was leaning back in his chair, and he grinned as I looked at him. He had disarrayed chestnut hair and a beard.

"Charming to meet you, Miss Isabella!" He exclaimed, bowing with his head, "Terrible weather for travelling, was it not?"

Lord Carlisle held my gaze for a moment, warning me to be careful, and gestured to a seat next to the little girl, Alice.

"Yes, my Lord," I said as I sat. I prayed my voice did not shake. "The weather was unpleasant."

He chuckled, "Quite. I had planned a hunt for today, but of course the trails were all lost with the flooding."

"What is your breed, Lord Talmey?" Lord Jasper asked.

"Thoroughbreds," he said proudly, "I broke them in myself, up at my country house in Norfolk. Jolly good they are, too. Some of the best in England if I don't say so myself."

"I shall have to see them some time. I believe thoroughbreds are truly the only horses capable of hunting."

"Mmm, quite."

Next to me, Alice piped up excitedly, "Actually, I heard that standardbreds can be just as good at – "

"How old are they?" Jasper interrupted her, talking only to Talmey, "Mine are past their past, I was inquiring about buying..."

Alice slumped in her seat, and I saw the sheen of tears on her eyes before she blinked it away. The engagement ring glinted on her finger. She was so young...instinctively I put my hand over hers and squeezed. She glanced at me, surprised. I tried to give a reassuring smile.

"So how _was_ your journey, Isabella?" Asked Lady Esme, unaware of my comforting. Beside her, Edward continued to run his finger broodingly round his goblet. The other gentlemen were deep in conversation about horse pricing, but he did not seem interested.

"It was well, thank you," I replied.

She nodded, her duty as hostess done, and began speaking with Rosalie about her condition.

Alice recovered and let go of my hand, becoming animated once more as the ladies speculated the child's gender.

Having no knowledge of such things – I had no idea that a craving for sweet cakes meant the babe was a girl – I sat quietly. Lord Iren did not give me any notice, which was relieving, but Lord Talmey briefly asked if I rode. I shook my head and he grinned, returning to conversation.

The footmen lifted the lids off the silver platters, and everyone began to tuck in. I myself ate little. I did not think I could stomach more than a morsel. I yearned for home; for my battered _Faerie Queene, _for the silence of my father's neglect. Yes, I wished for it. _But home is no more, Isabella, _I reminded myself. I stared at the peas on my plate. To some, an unknown future seemed like an exciting prospect. To me, it seemed dull and dangerous. I wanted to know what was to become of me. Then perhaps these few days in the Cullen house would not be so bad. But then, perhaps I would cling on to each moment here. Perhaps things were going to get worse...

"You eat little, Miss Isabella." A voice broke me out of my musings. I looked up at Edward, his finger still tracing the goblet. He gazed at me lazily.

"I am not hungry," I said back shakily. My resolve was becoming stronger now. Perhaps he looked hansom, but he was a killer, a murderer...

He raised his eyebrows, amusement sparking in his eyes, "Surely you must be hungry, coming all the way from Norwich?"

It took me only a moment to realize his implications. He knew where I was from! Did he know of my father? What if he told someone?

He smiled at my realization, and was about to say something more when one of the footman – I recognized him as Bernard, the one from the door – tapped on his shoulder. "A letter for you, Lord Edward," he said, offering him an envelope on a silver tray.

My heart thudded, and I took his distraction to think. Lord Carlisle had said that they knew nothing...how had he found out? Did Lord Carlisle know?

Edward abruptly stood, the opened letter in his fingers, his face dark, "Gentlemen, Ladies, I'm afraid I must retire early tonight," he locked gazes with Lord Carlisle. "I have had a rather long day."

"Goodnight, Edward," Lord Carlisle replied smoothly, but I saw the warning in his eyes.

Edward was gone in an instant, the doormen snapping to attention as he strode out. My curiosity piqued. That did not look like the stride of a tired man...

Lord Carlisle swiftly returned the conversation to its original spirit, but my thoughts were spinning. He was up to something...

Eventually, Lady Esme announced that the ladies were retreating to the drawing room.

"I feel a little faint after my journey," I said hurriedly to her as we stood, "Perhaps you would excuse me to my room?"

Esme nodded, though Lord Carlisle eyed me reprimandingly. "I shall have Miranda find you a nightgown, dear."

"Thank you, my Lady," I curtsied, and quickly took my leave, walking smartly down the entrance hall and up the stairs.

I assumed that his room would be somewhere down the same corridor as mine was.

I reached the landing. A door clicked shut down the corridor. I bit my lip and swooped back down, pressing myself again the banister Quick footsteps came, and Edward emerged from around the corner. He was dressed in a long black hooded cloak. His eyes were determined.

The plain black hilt of a sword stuck out from under the fabric.

He went to the large window at the end of the short corridor. He pulled the latch and it opened wide. Wide enough for him to lightly swing his legs over the other side. I held my breath as he turned and began going down. As soon as he was out of sight, I tiptoed to my room and grabbed my travel cloak from my bed. There was no question in my mind, no warning signal, as I went to the same window and peeked out. I could see his shady form walking quickly down the empty street.

I clasped on my cloak and climbed out. Rain spat from the sky. The cold air whipped at my cloak. I searched for footing and found the trellis of a climbing rose. I descended as quickly as I could, fearing I had already lost him. A thorn was shoved into my palm as I fumbled to grip the wood. I gritted my teeth and pulled my hand off, balling it into a painful fist. Thorn prick...prick implied a tiny dot. This felt like a gouge.

Eventually, my feet kicked around and found the soft soil of a pumpkin patch. I spun around. A corner of fabric flashed around the street corner. I wrenched my cloak from another rose bush, pushed open the gate and hurried across the road, my soft kid boots not making a sound on the cobbled street. I could see my breath in the air as I ran. I reached the street corner, peaking round. He was walking faster now. I ran on. A beggar in the porch of a house yelped as I shot past. I knew it was dangerous to be out on the streets alone. Particularly at night. But something drove me. Curiosity, perhaps, though I knew well what he was going to do. Who he was going to do it to, though, had no idea.

We reached the embankment of the Thames. There were people here, party goers and ladies in fancy dress. I shortened the distance between me and him. People glanced at me as they realised it was a girl's figure underneath the thick cloak, but they did not care much. He wove through the groups of people, his hand still resting on his sword.

"Sorry!" I exclaimed as I ran into an elderly gentleman. He grumbled as his matron stood him back up. I went on.

Edward had his head bowed under his hood, disguising his identity. A lord. A killer...

He finally stopped at a bridge. I pushed myself back behind a horse and cart.

_London Bridge_

A sign told me. It was no ordinary bridge; people had built houses on it. Massive mansions rising high out of the Thames. An archway cut through the buildings like a tunnel so that one could actually get to the other side of the river, but it looked as though it might cave in under all the weight of the houses. Water lapped at the walls. Edward glanced around furtively. I stepped entirely behind the carriage. When I looked again, he was going onto the bridge.

I pushed against the crowds of people to get to it. He was moving too fast! I reached the sign, but already the traffic of oxen and carriages and horses had swallowed him up. I pushed to the sidewalk, which was too narrow, and tried to move. But I had lost him...lost him...and _I _was lost...

But then I saw a plaque on the second mansion.

_Residence of Lord Gurchi__son_

_Inquiries not welcome_

I remembered Edward's strained words;_ "Gurchison, he knew I was coming..."_

"Oh my Lord in Heaven," I whispered. My selfish side was not that strong. Edward was going to kill this Gurchison person...I had to stop him.

How had he gotten in? There were no garden trellises. The stone walls were smooth and slippery...but there was an alleyway just on my left. The servant entrance...

I fought against the current of the pedestrians, throwing myself into the alleyway. It smelt of urine. Rats squeaked by. Lifting my skirts away from the water and lord-knows-what else, I went down. It became darker with every step. But there was a door, there on the right. It had to be the servant entrance...I knocked.

"Yes?" Came a voice as a latch unlocked. The door opened to reveal a squat little woman. "What d'you want?" She demanded, glaring at me.

"Did you just let in a man?" I asked breathlessly. "With a cloak?"

She frowned, "'oo are you to go askin' me bout my business, eh?"

"Madame Crouch, is there a problem?" I recognized his voice before I saw him. Edward stepped in behind the lady carrying a tray with a jug and goblet. He was wearing servant's livery, white and brown...he looked at me passively, as if this was to be expected.

"This li'le lady's bin botherin' me bout some person in a cloak..."

He stared at me, then slammed the door on me. All the latches locked.

I sunk against the alley wall. No...no...this wasn't right...why did he have to kill? Why did Edward have to kill? When he was so hansom, so...oh sweet lord, I did not know. But it did not seem right...

I listened to river lapping the great stone walls...why...why...

There was suddenly a shriek from the window high above me. The shriek of a man. No...no...no!

"Gerald!" Came the cry of a lady. "You!"

"My lord!"

The same window was suddenly thrown open. Edward's form leapt out, his cloak once again rippling around him.

I screamed.

He landed in a crouch, not a metre away from me. Straight away he pounced at me, his hand gripping over my mouth, muffled my screams. I tried to bite him, but he did not flinch. He wrestled me to the end of the alleyway, and then suddenly we were falling. His hand loosened and I screamed for a split second before we plunged into icy cold water.

I had never been in any more water than a bath before.

Which way was up? Which way was down? Why was it dark? Oh god oh god oh god! And hands...hands were on me! Were they drowning me? What was happening? Oh god, oh Lord that which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdo –

My mouth was suddenly sucking in frigid air. I was being held...my skirts were wet and heavy, dragging me down. Above, I heard the screams.

"Lord Gurchison is dead!"

"Isabella," came his voice...there were fingers pushing my wet hair off my face. "Isabella! Deep breaths! Come on! Look at me!"

My eyes were closed? I opened them. Edward's face was in front of me, drops of water sliding down his face, his eyes urgent.

"I can't swim! I can't breathe!" I screamed.

I felt his arm around my back now, keeping me up.

"Isabella, calm yourself," he commanded.

"The river!" Someone cried, "He went in the river!"

I suddenly looked about me, realizing where we were; under the bridge. There were great stone columns on either side of us. The water was black. It was like a cave...like a prison.

"Fetch the boats!" Someone else ordered.

Edward pulled me against him, my chest pressing against his. "Isabella, you must be silent, understand?" I felt something sharp on my ribcage. I nodded vigorously. Edward's eyes were dangerous. "Good girl, now we have to swim, alright?"

"I can't swim!" I breathed, "I can't swim!"

"Okay, okay," he said. The knife or whatever it was pressed a little harder. I was silent. "You'll be fine with me, alright? You will be fine, Isabella. Do you see the bank over there?"

I looked at the pile of rocks under the end of the bridge and then nodded.

"That's where we're going, then you'll be out, alright?"

"Yes," I whimpered.

He nodded, "Good girl, now just hold onto my shoulders."

I did as I was told, terrified that my skirts would pull me down. I clung to Edward's back, uncaring of who I was or who he was...I just had to get out. "Good girl," he whispered again, and began to pull us through the water.

The screams and noises of the bridge were distant. Underneath the massive stone structure, all to be heard was the water getting pushed away by Edward's arms. I was so cold...

"Under the bridge!" Came a call somewhere close. "Row lads!"

Edward suddenly stopped, pulling us both against another column. We could see the glimmering lantern light on the water...hear the paddles of a boat...

"Murderer!" Someone cried from the shore. _"Murderer! _Don't be a damned coward!"

Edward held me against him tighter. I stared at him. He was brave...but his eyes showed the fear that any sane man would have...

The boat passed between the two columns.

Sweet lord...

Edward leaned in, his lips at my ear, "Isabella, you must hold your breath when I say. Do not panic, I won't let you drown. Alright?"

I nodded as he pulled back. The boat came closer to us. Hot tears slid down my cheeks. Silently, he brushed them away, distracting me from this horrible place.

"Come out come out..." came the soft coax of one of the oarsmen. They were so close...

"Trust me," Edward whispered ever so quietly.

I swallowed and took the biggest breath I could.

He pulled me under. His arms wrapped tightly around me.

There was a horrible, terrifying noise. I saw the oval-like shape of an oar pull through the water towards us. Edward gripped my waist and pulled us deeper and away, round the corner of the column, just missing the wood as it pushed past us. Gradually, I let out my breath, not able to hold it any longer. I prayed the bubbles did not show...oh sweet god, but that was all my breath...now I had nothing...my body began straining, yearning for air, but Edward held me down...oh, the water tasted foul...

Edward suddenly let go of me.

I yelped, but it came out as a squeak in the water. Hands suddenly grabbed my wrists again. Edward was above the water...then he pulled me up...I came up again, spluttering. Quickly, he covered my mouth. My nose inhaled the air I needed. He pushed me against the column. I saw over his shoulder that the boat had moved on, away from us. "Quietly, Isabella," said Edward, then he slowly took his hand away. I let the water dribble out of my mouth. Oh sweet God, could this get worse... "My back, Isabella," he ordered.

I held onto his shoulders once more, and we carried on. The boat with the searchers had reached the other end of the bridge now, and they were landing on the rough embankment.

I looked back to the pale skin of Edward's neck and let my mind go numb.

When we got to the rocks, Edward lifted me up, my body sagging in shock and cold, and then hauled himself up.

There we sat, breathing heavily. Me and a murderer...a _murderer..._for now it was proven...but I could not think of that now.

"I'm s-so cold..." my teeth chattered as I whispered the words.

Edward pulled me against his chest again. He was cold as well, but at least he shielded against the draft.

"You silly girl," he muttered into my hair. I did not reply, I simply buried my face deeper into his chest. Absent-mindedly, I realized I had lost one shoe, and my cloak was gone. It did not matter...

I did not count the seconds or minutes or hours we stayed like that on the rocks. I was too tired to care. I would do what Edward told me to and nothing more.

Eventually, when the chaos above had stemmed, Edward stood, pulling me up with him. His face was tired, but still determined. He gripped me by the shoulders as I swayed a little. "Can you walk, Isabella?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Once we get to the alley ways, we'll be fine, alright? I need you to cross the road, though, alright?"

I nodded.

He took my wrist and began leading me along the rocks, out from under the bridge. We crept up. A carriage was stationery just by the wall. We clambered up to it. It shielded us from most people's view, though not from the people on the end of the bridge. Edward then led me around the front of the carriage. The horses nickered as we went round them. The street was still crowded, even though it must have been late. It could work to our advantage if they were unsuspecting people who knew nothing about what had just happened...but they weren't . They were flocking to the bridge, trying to find out any new information. But then I noticed something worse; the police. They were blockading the streets. Not letting anyone leave the area...

Edward, grim faced, surveyed the scene, then took my hand in his and set off through the crowds. It was strange; not too many people noticed us, though my skirts felt as though they were leaving puddle in their wake. People were all too interested in finding out what was happening with the murder...

Eventually we reached the other side of the road, and Edward was banging on a nondescript black door.

A boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen, opened it. "Lord Edward?"

Edward pushed past him, walking right in. I followed. The boy shut the door behind me, not in the slightest bit bemused. "Sebastian," Edward said, walking the warm corridor, "Where's your father? Is he home yet?"

"No," he replied, unfazed by his brashness. Perhaps he was used to it. "He sent a messenger saying he'd be home late; he's probably right outside, though. Some big murder. Lord Gerchison's been killed. Dad's already writing up the article."

Edward nodded, "Tell him I dropped by." He walked into what seemed to be a drawing room. Again, I followed.

"What you been up to that's gotten you all wet?" Asked Sebastian, following me.

"Ask your father, I'm sure he can work it out," He went to a window and pushed it open.

"You seem to have an inane attraction to windows," I muttered.

He smiled at me, one tiny flash, before he offered me his hand and helped me out. "Thank you, Sebastian."

"You're welcome, my Lord!" He replied with a little bow. He grinned at me and then shut the window.

I looked about me. We were in an alleyway...I heard the shouting crowds in the distance. We'd gotten behind the blockades...

Edward lead me quickly through the streets after that. He did not speak. He just walked.

I did not realize we had arrived until Edward opened a large cast iron gate and I found myself back in the rose garden. I almost sunk to the ground with relief, but Edward gripped my shoulders.

"Isabella," he commanded, "You must speak of this to no one, understand?"

But the danger was over. The control I had allowed him over me now dissipated, for I was no longer afraid...or, at least, no longer afraid of imprisonment. Now I was afraid of him.

I stepped away, shaking hard. "You're a murderer," I whispered. "You killed...you killed him!" My voice was scratchy from crying and screaming and from the bad water.

Edward roughly took my wrist, "Isabella, do not speak of things you do not understand!"

"There is nothing _to _understand with murder!"

His sighed and shoved me toward the trellis. "Go, then, but next time you follow me I_ will_ silence you. Understand?"

"One more murder," I said bitterly, and began climbing.

Miranda had laid out a nightgown on my bed. I undressed and put it on, shoving my dress and one remaining boot deep under the bed. I did not know what I would do for clothes tomorrow. I did not care. All I could do now was sleep. Sleep and try to forget the feelings that were welling in me.

I feared that these conflictions of emotion would only accentuate. I feared that this was only the beginning.

* * *

I was amazed at how they built houses on London Bridge; it was a really big fire risk, and so a lot of it burnt down.

Poor London always seemed to be getting baked...

**Please review! Tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

Hello all!

Reporting to you from quake capital (well, shared quake capital with Japan now)!

Long story, but no time to tell it right now...

For those of you not reading Clair de Lune; I've been caught in the Christchurch Earthquake :D

I'm currently using someone else's laptop, so I can't write for long.

**CLAIR DE LUNE READERS: thank you so much for your messages and support. I will start writing as soon as I get my laptop back!**

**Thanks for the reviews! You are my inspiration!**

I am so very tired, and need to get to bed before another long day (I have a month of holiday to make up for now).

Please review and

ENJOY!

* * *

I woke many times in the night, shivering. My hair was still wet, and my skin and clothing stunk. The ribbing of my corset pressed hard into the side of my body. I had tried to take it off last night, but it had been hard to do it alone, so I'd just pulled the nightgown over it and my soaking wet chemise. I felt more tired than I had in all my life, but I could not sleep. Not with my teeth chattering. Not with the questions pounding in my head…the _confusion…_

I toiled with such confusion as I watched the first rays of weak sunlight come through my window. I had been awake for hours, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of London waking. I was still trying convince myself…

Lord Edward was a murderer. His handsomeness was fraud. 'twas something which was there to confuse me, to taunt me and leave me with doubts – doubts about morals which I had had laid down in my head from the beginning. Killing people was wrong. And killing people in cold blood? With a purpose of nothing but to end another's life? Well, that was worse. _Handsome he may be, _I thought, _but I must see the true monster of who he is…_

But then, if I were to speak of morals in such a way, surely I should tell someone of Lord Edward's deeds? Surely I should expose him? But then I would certainly lose my lodging in this house…but would someone not take me in for helping them…? But I knew the answer to that, also; no. The world was cruel. London even more so. They would take my information and then leave me on the streets…but someone had to know! Before he killed again!

There was a soft knock on the door, "Miss Isabella?"

I recognized the maid's – Miranda's – voice through the darkwood.

Such questions would have to be waylaid. For the moment, I would say nothing.

"Come in," my voice cracked a little. I sat up in bed, pushing back the heavy duvets and sheets.

Miranda entered, shutting the door behind her with her shoulder. Her arms were presently occupied with a large and heavy bundle of white fabric. "Lord Edward said I was to give this to you, Miss."

My gaze sharpened, "Lord Edward?"

She nodded, as if expecting the alarm on my face, "And I am to take you wet clothes to the laundry. And his lordship says you are to use his bathwater after him."

"Pardon?" I spluttered. Use his bathwater? Use _his _bathwater?

For the first time, I realized Miranda was not expressing the usual passive air of a servant – she pressed her lips together impatiently. "His lordship says you are to use his – "

"You may tell his lordship that I do not wish to use his bathwater, and that a basin will be quite sufficient."

She stared at me poisonously for a second before, it seemed, realizing her place. She swiftly put the dress and it's counterparts on the edge of my bed and went out the door.

I slid out of bed and stood frozen on the cold wooden floor.

Could she know? Know about what Edward was up to? And agree with it? For she certainly seemed resentful to me…but why tell a maid? For it was well known that servants were the best of gossips. Unless, of course, Edward and her had other…duties to each other…

This seemed to be the most logical answer. I knew that love and lust were powerful tools. Perhaps in exchange for…well, certain acts, Miranda kept Edward's secret and helped him when it was needed. Obviously it was needed now.

She came back in, her face indignant, "His lordship says it would not be wise to disobey him."

"Why?" I snapped, "Because he might kill me?"

Miranda's face turned stone cold, "You don't know what you speak of."

I narrowed my eyes, "No, I think I know exactly what I speak of." Despite my anger, I knew that fear was stirring in the back of my mind.

'_I will silence you'_

His words were fresh in my mind. And I knew he was more than capable… "I will take his damned bathwater, but I will feel only more filthy after bathing in the blood of thousands."

Miranda said nothing, but left once again.

I went and pressed my forehead against the cold glass of the window. Oh sweet Lord, what sort of a place was I in?

Miranda, aided by two footmen, returned with the large wooden bath, sloshing with water. In truth, it had been weeks since I had last bathed. Our housekeeper had had little time to lug the endless jugs of water up the stairs, and so my last bath had been a month or two ago.

The footmen left, and Miranda silently helped me undress, efficiently tugging at the knot of my corset. I tentatively stepped into the bath. The water was still warm. Deliciously so, for I had never had a warm bath before – not more than what warmth the fireplace in the room could create. I sunk gratefully into the water, forgetting for a moment of the fight that I had put up against it. The steam rising from it smelt of some sort of spice…something so close to what Edward had smelt of last night, as we had lain on the rocks…

Oh Lord, he was doing it again. Even when he was not here, I was mesmerized!

My bath went quickly after that. I took the soap Miranda blankly offered me, and scrubbed my body free from the water of the Thames. My hair would not be washed, it was unhealthy to do so more than once a year, and I'd washed it last December. My bare skin revelled in the water. Edward…he'd sat in here…naked…

That thought was enough for me to stand back up, water cascading from my shoulders. "I am finished," I told Miranda. She wrapped a towel around my shoulders. Apparently, she had returned to her passiveness since I'd done what Lord Edward had told me to do. She'd found my hastily hidden dress from yesterday, as well as my one boot, which she'd been quick to replace with a complete pair from somewhere else.

Now, she helped me pull on a new cotton chemise and a corset. Both looked more expensive than what my father could have afforded. It seemed, though, that the richer one was, the tighter one's corset had to be. "Breathe in, miss," Miranda ordered. I did so. She didn't give me a chance to breathe out, though. She yanked the laces, the whale bone rods suddenly shoved themselves in the space where my belly should have been.

"Good Lord…" I gasped with the last of my air. Miranda said nothing, and I began to suspect she was making it tighter than was really required.

Next came stockings, which were made of silk – a commodity father _certainly _would not have been able to afford, – and then a bodice and a petticoat. On top of my petticoat was a farthingale, which gave the gown it's shape. I recalled how the many hoops had dragged in the water last night. Oh Lord, if Edward had not been there…_if Edward had not been there, Isabella, you yourself would not have been there! _

I swallowed and tried to focus as Miranda tied on my rowle and then my stomacher. A stomacher was a piece of fabric seen on the outside. It was pale blue, with white, climbing vines embroidered on it. Then, eventually, Miranda guided my arms and head through the heavy gown. It was like an inversion of the stomacher; white, with pale blue vines climbing gracefully up. The whole ensemble must have cost more than my father could possibly have earned in a month.

"This came from Lord Edward?" I asked, staring down at the shiny threads of the pattern.

"Straight from his own coffer, miss," she answered, now brushing my hair. I knew she was trying to make me feel guilty.

"How very kind," I murmured distastefully.

"It would have been better spent on other things," Miranda replied quietly, stone in her voice.

"I believe covering up the fact that he pushed me into the Thames last night was rather high on his Lordship's priorities, actually."

"You should not have followed him."

"You should not be so outspoken, maid."

This seemed to silence her. She finished arranging my hair, forcefully shoving in a jewelled hair comb, and held the door open for me. I walked out, chin high. I was glad I still had some of the rightful authority of an aristocrat here, though I probably had less money than Miranda now.

When I entered the breakfast room, only Lady Esme and Lady Rosalie were sat at the circular table, sipping wine and talking softly. With my entrance, Lady Esme smiled politely, "Good morning, Isabella."

I bobbed a curtsy, "Good morning, my ladies."

"Come, sit," she nodded to one of the standing servants, who pulled out a chair for me. I sat down, arranging my skirts around me. Her ladyship watched, "I see you have acquired some more clothes?"

I looked down. Would she be suspicious if I told her of Edward? Surely it was not commonplace for him to buy guests of the house new clothes… "His…lordship was kind enough to supply me with this." Thank goodness Lord Carlisle and Lord Edward had the same title…

Lady Esme simply nodded, "You will get some more dresses this morning, I expect. That is, if you have recovered from your journey? I trust you had a peaceful night last night."

I could have choked on the air. Peaceful…oh, anything but… "Yes, my lady, it was pleasant…"

My food was brought – an estranged chunky yellow mixture and two slices of manchet bread. I stared at the plate.

"It is eggs with lime juice, Isabella," Lady Esme informed me delicately. I gave a weak smile, but still the pile on my plate did not look any sort of egg… "Oh do not look so disgusted, child!" Lady Esme scolded, losing her temper. "They have only been scrambled!"

I hastily picked up the silver fork and prodded one of the soft chunks with it. Eggs…I had eaten eggs before…feeling Lady Esme's eyes on me, I put it in my mouth. It tasted…sour, for the lemon was strong, but not wholly unpleasant…

So I managed to eat to her ladyship's satisfaction. The conversation before my arrival must have been private, for now the two ladies were silent, demurely looking out the window at the garden.

"Good morning mother!" Came a high voice from the door. Alice – Lady Alice, I should have said – flitted into the room in a pale rose pink gown. Her hair swung loose and free, as was permissible for girls not yet married. "Good morning Rose! Morning Isabella!"

"Good morning," I replied, laughing despite the previously tense atmosphere. Alice grinned back and popped into the seat next to me.

"Thanks, Mr Bill," she said to the servant who pushed her in. He gave a polite nod, but I could see the twinkle in his eye. Truly, I had never seen someone so at ease with the world. Lady Alice seemed to brighten the whole room. Only my memory of her damp eyes last night kept me from thinking she was an ethereal pixie of happiness. I still could not fathom her engagement to Lord Jasper…

"Restrain yourself, child," Lady Esme intoned as Alice waved to the rest of the footmen.

"Sorry, mama," she apologized, looking back to the table guiltily. I could understand Lady Esme's displeasure. Miranda talking back to me was a great rudeness. But speaking so lightly to servants was almost as bad – it could instigate all sorts of trouble if one treated a servant as an equal.

Alice did not stay disheartened for long, though; her attention turned to be. "Isabella! I missed you last night in the drawing room! It was awfully good fun before the boys arrived, wasn't it Rose? We played thirty and one! Do you play cards Isabella? Do you play with your mother? Is she not here with you?"

The questions came so quickly that I hardly had time to process them, but I was so confused. My mother?

"Enough, Alice," Lady Esme commanded sharply.

"But father only said she'd lost her papa – "

"Silent, child!" Esme rapped her across the knuckles.

"My mother passed away a long time ago," I said quietly, feeling sorry for her. She was but a child – curiosity was natural. Lady Esme looked fit to burst. Lady Rosalie, however, seemed to be taking some interest in the conversation now. I suspect they were all curious.

"Oh I'm so sorry," said Alice, looking sincere even as she nursed her red hand. "How?"

"Alice, enough," Lady Esme repeated. "Go and put your hat and gloves on, it's time for you walk."

"Oh, can Miss Isabella come?" Oh Lady Alice's enthusiasm would ne'er be hindered…

"No, Alice."

Rosalie spoke for the first time now, "Actually, my Lady, it would be rather convenient; were you not just saying how Miss Isabella needs to visit the dressmakers?" Perhaps Rosalie thought Alice would be able to find out more about me…

"Oh!" Exclaimed Alice, "Splendid! We pass Madame Tulle's on my usual walk!"

Lady Esme pressed her lips together.

"You are not to badger Miss Isabella anymore, understand Alice?"

"Yes, mother," Alice said, looking earnestly now that she was on the winning streak.

"Fine, then," Lady Esme conceded. "But you are to return in time for early supper; Lord Carlisle has told me he has a guest he would like you to meet, Isabella."

I nodded, rising as Alice did and curtsying. A guest…who would that be?

"Who, mother?" Of course, Alice would ask for me…

"A young gentleman, Alice. Now away with you both."

As soon as we stepped out the gate, Alice linked arms with me, as if we had been friends for years. In truth, I had not had anyone who I could call a friend back in Norwich. My life had been so very solitary. None of father's shady friends had brought daughters along, and there were no other aristocratic families of our standing in the district, so I had never had anyone to play with. Only the characters of my imagination. And, with my small view of the world, they were not very interesting.

So walking down the road with Lady Alice, chattering away, was surreal. Her nanny bobbed along behind us. Perhaps that was where Alice got her brightness from, for the nanny seemed of kind spirit, good-heartedly clucking Alice along when she slowed to look at the flowers or the horses.

"You don't ride, do you?" She said, "I love horses. I _adore _them! When I have my own estate I'm going to have seven horses, one for each day of the week, and I'll love them all dearly!"

"Does Lord Jasper not have many horses already?"

Alice's face dropped a little. We were walking across a gorgeous grassy square, with glorious flowers and trees. I had not expected such a pocket of beauty in a place like London. "Lord Jasper would hardly let me ride them…he does not think I am responsible enough to ride, even though I have been riding since I was three!"

"Does he not know this?"

She nodded her head sadly, "Yes, but he still won't allow me to ride. And my horse, Yvette, she's part of my dowry – I think he plans to take her away from me once we are married."

"Can your father not negotiate?"

"No…this is strictly a business engagement – I heard Emmett talking about it…he said that Lord Jasper is high up at court, and he has the ear of her majesty the Queen. Father needs him on his side, and Lord Jasper is always in need of more money. 'tis not that he is poor, oh he is almost as rich as father – it simply that he wants _more…_" Alice sighed unhappily, absentmindedly picking a flower from a bush. "My dowry will be a bribe without being too suspicious. Unfortunately, dowries come with brides…wives…I'm going to be a _wife…_with all a wife's…duties…" she choked on the word.

I patted her hand, "Oh Alice, I am sure he will not force that particular duty upon you. Not yet, at least."

She shook her head quickly, tears shimmering in her eyes, "Mother says I have to…Rosalie, too…and the wedding…oh, 'tis only two weeks away…the final banns are being read this Sunday."

"Alice…" I pulled her into a hug, right there on the street. She clung to me, sniffling into my shoulder. I glanced at her nurse. She looked so worried. Alice should not have had to go through such a trial…not at her age; 'twas not fair…I realized that she had had no one to speak to about all these matters. If both Lady Esme and Lady Rosalie were on Lord Carlisle's side…oh the pressure…

"What is it like, Isabella?" Alice sniffed, drawing back a little. "Is it painful, like Rosalie once said?"

I was so taken aback by the question that I dropped my arms from her shoulders. "Ah…" I shakily began walking, not quite able to look at her, "Well, I have not exactly…done it yet, Alice…you see, I am not married…"

"But one of the stable boys told me that country girls…"

I let out a startled laugh, "Oh no, Lady Alice. No, I have not even seen many gentlemen until I came here."

"We _do _have quite a few here; father's always having guests. Perhaps you shall meet your true love here!"

I smiled, shaking my head. We'd reached the edge of the park, and now we stood waiting for a pause in the traffic. "Oh Alice, I don't believe in true love…'tis not practical…"

"How can you not believe in true love, Miss Isabella?" Alice exclaimed.

I smiled kindly, "I know, 'tis an attractive idea."

"An _idea?" _Alice repeated. "'tis not an idea!" She suddenly began flitting through the traffic. "It is beautiful!" She threw her flower into the air, her loose hair bouncing. "It is _real!" _She barely missed a horse and cart as she reached the opposite pavement. The nanny and I exchanged amused, and slightly worried glances, then navigated our way across the road.

"You must be more careful crossing the road, your Ladyship," the nanny clucked, straightening her hut.

"Sorry nursie…" but Alice did not seem very sorry, for she was already distracted by the shop awning in front of us.

_Madame Tulle's Seamstresses for Reputable Women_

"It's the best dressmaker's in town," Alice quickly went in. We followed, the bell dingling as we entered.

Madame Tulle turned out to be a rotund middle-aged woman. I suspected she would have got on very well with Lady Esme. She was frank and straight to the point. "You have a skinny figure, Miss Swan. Not at all attractive, you know. So scrawny... And your skin…well, 'tis pale, at least, though not at all unblemished. A little lead would not go amiss. I would even suggest bleeding. It's terribly effective, you know."

Though I knew it enhanced beauty, I had never thought bleeding to be a particularly good thing. Surely losing all that blood did nothing for your health? Lead…well perhaps I could use some of that…

"Anyway, let us get to my dressmaking. Indeed, you are perhaps the opposite of perfection, Miss Swan, but at least my dresses will add _something_ of repute to you…"

I was then made to stand on a little pedestal in the middle of the room as Madame Tulle measured every part of me. 'twas uncomfortable indeed, but Alice's easy gossiping was enough to occupy me.

I had never been properly fitted for a dress. Father had occasionally brought one home a few months after I told him I'd grown out of most my old ones, but I had ne'er been able to choose one for myself.

Technically, I still hadn't.

Madame Tulle must have thought me deaf and dumb, for she would not have me saying anything of my opinion.

"I usually don't wear such vivid – "

"Silence, child; you do not understand fashion. Truly," she spoke to Alice's nanny, "Where on Earth did you find her? A pig pen?"

The nanny frowned at her. Apparently she was on my side…

But the torture went on and on. Madame Tulle thrust pieces of fabrics against my skin, sewed me into impossibly tight dresses, wrenched my head back because my posture was terrible, inspected my feet, had me hold countless fans and, worst of all, almost strangled me with hundreds of elaborate ruffs. By the time she was finished, my stomach was rumbling, Alice had run out of gossip and the nanny was asleep in one of the armchairs. "I will have two premade dresses delivered to the Cullen Mansion by tonight, and will begin making the five new ones tonight."

"That's terribly fast," said Alice, "It took a month for one of mine…"

"Lord Cullen has made special payments so that Miss Swan may have some respectable clothing quickly, Lady Alice," I noticed she treated Alice with much more respect than me.

She farewelled us after we woke Nursie up, and we burst back onto the street, into the fresh – by London's definition – air. The bells of midday had long since rung. "Lord, that took a while!" Alice said as we crossed the road lethargically. "Though I'm glad I got to come with you. You looked as though you'd fall asleep if I hadn't been there."

I laughed, "Yes, probably."

"Mother was terribly strange this morning. Usually she's happy for me to have company. Though I suppose I was a little insensitive with what I said…"

I shook my head, "No, you had a right to ask, Alice."

"What _did _happen to your mother?" She asked.

I breathed in, looking through the canopy of trees at the blue sky. It would not last long – grey clouds were coming in from the south.

"She died giving birth to me. I think I was born earlier than the physician expected…my birth nearly killed both of us…"

"But you look healthy now…"

"I was weak as a child. Perhaps that's why I never learnt how to ride a horse."

"Your papa wouldn't let you?"

I shook my head, "My nanny. My father…he had little care for me."

Alice frowned, "But he's your papa. I'm sure he loved you. Every papa loves his daughter," she spoke with such certainty… "Don't worry, even sometimes I think my father doesn't love me, when he's angry…but he always gets better."

I just smiled politely, and let the conversation turn to a different topic. Dear Alice was fun…but she did not understand that love was…well, rare, I suppose.

"How old are you?" She asked me.

Well, that was easily enough answered, "Seventeen. And you?"

"Fourteen next June," she said proudly. Again, I could not help but think of Lord Jasper. Surely he would not force her… "It's nice having someone to spend time with; mother has so little patience with me, and the babe tires Rosalie, even though it is yet to be born. Emmett's always out jousting or hunting…doing all those fun things I cannot do. And Edward's always off doing…things," She finished uncomfortably.

_Edward's always off killing people, _I corrected silently. "Has he always stayed with your family?"

Alice shook her head, "No, he has an estate up North, and he used to have a house in London, but I believe he sold it. He spends most of his time with us," Alice looked thoughtfully at the paving stones, "I think he's lonely – we're his only family now."

"What happened to his parents?"

She shrugged, "His mother died when he was a child. Consumption, I think. And his father died a few years ago. Some exotic disease."

"He was an only child?"

She hesitated – just a split second, but enough to pique my curiosity, "Yes…" she searched for another topic. "I thought that pink ruff Madame Tulle had you wearing was ridiculous, don't you agree?"

I nodded, my mind buzzing. Unfortunately, it did not buzz with answers. Edward had a secret sibling? Perhaps he had killed him…

When we returned home, Lady Esme, who was at high tea with a friend, herded Alice off to her lessons, and instructed me, rather coldly, to select a book from the library and make myself scarce until I was called. To my delight, the library had a copy of _The Faerie Queene. _I eagerly took it upstairs to my room and sat on my bed, arranging my skirts around me. I do not know how many hours I sat there – indeed, I had not taken proper stock of the time all day – reading the gentle flow of words. So familiar…the only thing that _was _familiar…but the passages only reprieved me from reality for so long. As the sun set, my mind began to wander.

I had had little chance to think of what had happened last night – Alice's company had proved to be a great, but now the images came to me. The water rushing down my throat, the flash of Edward's cloak coming down from the window, the horrible cries of the woman in the house. Cries of pain. Perhaps she had been the man's wife. She would never talk to him again. She would never look into his eyes again.

My imagination made Lord Gurchison an elderly man, perhaps ready to retire from court, perhaps that room was his study. Perhaps he had been sharing a drink with his wife, talking about their children and grandchildren. They would never see him again, either. And then Edward would have walked in, looking like a servant refilling their goblets. He would have wielded his sword. That sheening noise as it came out of it's sheath.

And he would have stabbed him through the heart. And the wife would have screamed, _"Gerald!"_ Then perhaps she would have seen Edward swinging his cloak on and opening the window. _"You!" _But then he would have leapt out of the window, leaving her with her husband spluttering in his chair. _"No! No! Gerald!" _And he took his last breaths…and servants and guards rushed into the room, but it was too late. Their worthy master was dead. Because of Edward.

I suddenly felt ill. Sick to the stomach with the thought that last night I had trusted that man to keep me from drowning. To care for me. To get me home…

There were footsteps in the corridor. I scurried to the door. I did not know why…perhaps to prove to myself that such a beast could truly exist. But it was simply a servant. He knocked on the door two away from my own.

"A letter for his lordship."

"His lordship is not here," came the voice of Miranda the maid. "Leave it on the desk."

The servant did so and Miranda shut the door.

Another letter. Last night, that had meant death. Tonight…_tonight it will mean an end to his murders. _The decision was so quick. I pulled on my cloak and tied it securely around my shoulders. Then I waited by the door, listening for Miranda's departure. Surely she was only cleaning Lord Edward's chambers? But the cleaning must have been extensive, for I waited at least half an hour before I heard the swish of skirts and a door gently closing.

I hurried down the corridor and into his rooms.

They were much larger than mine – two rooms separated by an archway, one with a desk and a bookcase and two plush armchairs by a fireplace. The other was the bedroom, with another hearth and a massive four poster bed with deep blue sheets.

A surge of something, _something…_came to my chest. That bed…it looked so…perfect…

I snapped myself away from it. Damn him! 'twas like the bath! I did not know what was wrong with me!

I went quickly to the desk. The letter was obvious. It was a plain seal, nothing of consequence. I slipped my nail underneath, breaking it, and opened the paper.

_At the toll of twelve_

_By the Swan Theatre_

_He will arrive_

And 'he' would die. Simple.

I slid the letter into my stockings and went to the end of the hallway to the window. I was thankful Edward had shown me that. I pushed it open, cringing at the noise, then climbed out.

Climbing down the trellis was easier this time, in the half light, but I knew that it was also dangerous – someone could see me. I jumped the last two metres and began to run. I prayed that no one was at the kitchen windows.

But no alarm was called, and I let out a sigh of relief as I reached the end of the street, leaving the Cullen Mansion behind me. I doubted I would be welcome there again. But my morals were stronger now. I had to tell, even if it cost me my lodgings.

I knew little about courts and laws and watchmen in London, but one thing was universal; Sheriffs. There had to be a sheriff of London, and he would be interested in my information, would he not? I asked the first near-respectable person I saw where the sheriff's office was. He was a servant, in his house's livery. He gave me clear directions, bowing as I said my thanks and left. I asked for directions a few more times, and I seemed to be getting close to where the offices were, but I found myself on a backstreet, lost, and with the sky darkening. There was only one other person in sight; a beggar sitting in the porch of a house. Nervously, I approached him.

"Excuse me, do you know where the Sheriff's office is?" The man looked at me distantly, his eyes bloodshot. He stunk. Badly.

"What business 'as a girly like you got at the Sherry's Office?"

"I have something of importance to report."

"I know where it is. Just a few streets away."

"Which direction?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me," he slurred.

"Tell you what?"

"What's your name, pretty?"

Lord Carlisle had warned against my identity becoming public knowledge. Now, I spoke the first name that came to mind, "Miranda."

"Heh," the man coughed. I stepped back, not wishing to get diseased. I did not understand why he wished for my name, but apparently he kept promises, because he then told me where to go.

"Thank you," I said gratefully. "If I had money I would give it."

"Ah well, lass. There's always next time. My name's Howard, by the way."

"Okay…"

Once again, I set off.

The beggar's directions had been spot on. Soon, I found myself faced with the imposing sign;

_Crossby: Sheriff of London_

I went in. It was a simple room, with a single desk and a clerk behind it, writing. "Visiting times are over." He said without looking up.

"I have a murderer to report."

The clerk looked up, taking in my expensive dress and flustered expression. "Who?"

I looked away, "I would prefer to speak to the sheriff."

He pursed his lips, obviously unhappy to be kept out of the loop. But he stood and went through a door.

I sunk into a chair next to a door, trying to block out the thoughts that now plagued me. Was I right to be doing this? Miranda had said I didn't understand. Alice, kindhearted and lovely, seemed to like Edward…Lord Carlisle, who seemed fair, let him into his house…

_Then they have all been mislead…_

"His excellence will be but a few moments," said the clerk, coming back in. I nodded, swallowing.

He set about collecting up his papers. Obviously business was closing up. I sat nervously, twisting my hands. The clerk went out through a side door with a big stack of papers.

Yes, this was the right decision. I knew it. This was right. This was what I needed to do. This was the right thing to –

A hand suddenly clasped over my wrist and yanked me through the door into a dark room.

Before I had time to scream, I was shoved against a wall, a sword tip pressed into my throat…

…and a pair of furious green eyes glaring at me.

* * *

Oh dear...

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	4. Chapter 4

Hello!

Okay...so I just looked at my stats and realized it's been five months...

Now, I really don't have a good excuse for this. I have been updating Clair de Lune (other Twilight Fanfic - please give it a read if you can!) fairly regularly, though, so that is _kind _of okay...

Long and short of it; I need to get onto this!

Fortunately, Clair de Lune is in its finishing stages! Just the epilogue to complete!

And then Tudor London will be first and foremost on my priorities! Yay!

So just hold on for another week or so, and then I will be here in my entirety!

**Thank you so much for the reviews! You are awesome! **

**It's great to have your support and suggestions in these first few chapters!**

Okay, so please...

**Review**

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**Enjoy!**

* * *

"How _dare _you?" He seethed, the sword tip stinging my skin.

"Please, my lord," I choked out, my body frozen with fear.

His eyes did not waver. They were so poisonous, so vehement. Savage, almost. His hand pressed my shoulder painfully against the cold stone wall. The sword tip stung my skin. That single point…it felt as though my entire body were within it. With a single nudge…I could be ended.

A hot tear slid down my cheek. Edward's nostrils were flaring. He raised his chin, his hand gripping the hilt tighter.

"My lady?" The clerk's muffled voice came through the door.

"What sort of trickery is this!" Came another, outraged voice. The sheriff. Perhaps if I screamed…

But Edward moved. The tip was replaced by the edge of the blade as he stepped much closer into me, his stomach almost touching mine. His hand clamped over my mouth. All the while he kept his eyes locked on mine. Warning me. We heard the shuffling around in the office.

"A murderer, she said?"

Edward pushed closer, his glare even fiercer. The blade pressed deep into my neck.

"Yes, your excellence."

"Well damn, Marsden! Go and find her! We could have had the Noble in our hands!"

"Yes, your excellence." We heard the front door swing shut.

"DAMN!" The sheriff shouted. Another door slammed.

Now we were alone. Now no one would hear me die…

He finally spoke, his teeth gritted, "If you so much as utter a _word…"_

The sword lowered. I dared to take a breath. Thank the sweet Lord…but the danger was not over. No, I had to remember that…

Edward took his hand from my mouth and let me away from the wall. I almost collapsed, but Edward pushed me forward instead, along the dark passage. He stayed right up behind me. He did not sheath his sword, but kept it by his side. Ready. Waiting.

The passage must have been another entrance. Black doors went along one side. I did not know what the plaques on them said, and I did not have the freedom of mind to speculate. Edward's body was tense behind me. When we reached the dead end of the passage, he wordlessly nudged me right, through the last door. It creaked open into a small, cold office with a desk and a chair and very little else. There was a sketchy map of London on the desk top, and a threadbare rug on the floor. There was only one small window, high up in a wall. There was no where to go…why were we here?

Edward suddenly pushed me down to my knees. I whimpered, my mind only just coping with the stress. He was about to kill me. This room obviously was not used often. No one would find me for a while…I was going to die…I was going to die…

"Push back the rug, Isabella," Edward commanded me. His voice was quiet, but steely. Deadly.

But the order was a good sign – he was not planning to kill me yet. I did as I was told, pushing back the dusty rug. Underneath, cut into the wooden planks, was a trapdoor.

"Open it."

I realized my hands were shaking. The latch was just a thin plate of metal, so as not to be detected through the rug. My fingers scrabbled to pick it up, my nails breaking on the rough wood. Eventually they slid underneath and the latch screeched up. Edward said nothing. I was less scared when he said something. At least I knew something of what he was planning. The trapdoor opened with surprising ease. Of course, Edward had already used it.

"Go down."

I tried to swallow. The ladder down was wooden and rickety. A flickering light somewhere down there showed me where the ground was. At least ten feet, if not more. And I did not know what awaited me at the bottom. Perhaps he'd thought the sheriff's office was too conspicuous. If he killed me down here, perhaps no one would ever find me…

"Isabella…" Edward's voice warned of a much closer death if I didn't obey him.

With my teeth biting hard into my gum, I shakily put my feet on the ladder. It seemed to hold.

It was only as my whole body was below the room, and my hands left the edges of the trapdoor, that I realized what he could have been doing. Locking me in here. Leaving me. Underground. To starve and die…the thought distracted me and my foot slid off the ladder step.

"Edward!" I screamed. I'd lost all grip…I was falling…oh God…

Edward's hand suddenly reached down and grabbed my wrist. "Oh God…" I sobbed, the stress breaking on me like a wave on a sand castle.

"Isabella," Edward's voice echoed down whatever place I was in. I was too scared to look up. "Isabella, calm down. I won't drop you."

I did not understand myself. Understand why Edward was both the bane and the saviour of my life. Why I trusted him inexplicitly when I knew he wished to kill me. It was just that when he was telling me to calm myself, both here and in the water, he seemed like he truly wanted me to be safe. _The devil has the face of an angel, Isabella, _my mind told me.

"Find a foothold." Edward's voice was only slightly strained, though he was holding my entire weight. I had always been underweight, but with the bulk of clothes on me, I must have been quite heavy. _Edward must be strong…_I thought detachedly. _Probably because of lifting his sword to kill people so many times…_

My feet scrabbled around, and eventually found the ladder step again. My free hand grasped the wood. "Alright?" Edward asked above me.

"Yes," I whispered. He slowly let go of my wrist, and I continued down, each rung creaking. When I reached the bottom I almost fell to the ground, for my legs were suddenly not functioning, but I kept myself standing, for I had an idea. We were in a tunnel, it seemed. A lit torch burnt next to me, showing damp stone walls and a winding earth path, journeying off into the dark. I did not know where it went, but it was an escape. Edward was still above, only a few rungs down as he lowered the trapdoor. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. Yes. Yes an escape. Now. Now was my only chance.

_Run!_

I turned and fled into the dark, gripping the fabric of my skirts so as not to trip.

"Isabella!" He roared. I heard the thud as he landed on the ground.

My breath was shallow as I stumbled down the dark corridor. I felt the hot tears stream down my cheeks. His heavy footsteps echoed behind me. I pushed myself harder, my legs screaming in protest. In truth I had not run so far in years. Running was…frivolous, ungraceful…he was gaining on me! I ran on. There were torches every so often, stretching out to the tiniest bit of light before another came.

My breath was now just a rasp. My feet suddenly felt too large for my boots. But I had to keep running, because if I stopped he would kill me. But I could hear him approaching, I could hear his breath now. 'twas not as laboured as mine.

I panicked, turning around in such stupidity to see where he was.

Right in front of me.

"Please!" I gasped, trying to run backwards. But I tripped and fell, sprawling onto my back.

Straight away he was on top of me, this time a knife at my throat, straddling me over my stomach. He slammed my wrists against the ground as I struggled. "Please!" I cried out again, weeping.

"What does it take to convince you, girl!" He shouted. We were deep in the tunnel now. I doubted anyone would hear. "You have almost cost me my life today! You stupid, ignorant girl!"

"Please!" Oh sweet God…he would do it now. He would kill me! "Please I found the note! You were going to kill someone! It's not right…I couldn't – "

"What note?" He demanded, pressing my wrists in harder. "Tell me!"

"The Swan," I whispered. "At…at twelve…it said he'd be there!" I was shouting again, "You were going to kill him! I couldn't let you – "

"Silence!" Edward yelled. "Now where is the note?"

I gulped. I knew the parchment was against my thigh, tucked into my silk stocking. If I had been in any right state of mind, I would have been revolted by Lord Edward's position upon me. I had ne'er had a man so close to me – not even when my father's friends had given me a 'gentlemanly' kiss of welcome. His hands were on either side of my head, clamping my own wrists to the ground, his chest so close to my own, his thighs at my hips. _Oh sweet God…_

There was only one thing worse – one thing that my mind could bear to imagine, at least – than my present position. If Edward knew where the letter was hidden…I could not imagine him allowing me to get it myself, for I could easily run if he did…no, he was a sick man. He would do it himself…and I imagined those large hands which were now on my wrists climbing up the inside of my skirts, feeling along the line of my leg…

Edward was getting impatient, "God damn it, girl! Tell m – "

"I burnt it!" I cried out, the images in my head to horrible to allow. I struggled, then, to find some way to lie…I did not lie often. I did not have to…

In the sparse light from a torch a fair way back, I saw his eyes narrow, searching for deceit. "I…I didn't want you coming back and finding it and killing him…"

He held my gaze a moment more.

"Stupid girl," he snapped eventually, then stood, towering over me like a God. Or like Satan. "You assume far too much."

My breath stopped, "You were not going to kill him?"

"Whether I was or not is of _no _concern to you!"

Roughly, he snatched my wrist and yanked me up. Then he spun round, keeping a finger hooked in the laces of my bodice, so that I could not run.

He gave me a shove, and we began walking.

The tunnel wound left and right, only lit by torches, flaming fervently on the walls. All I could hear was my own terrified breath, and Lord Edward's, stiff and angry. I do not know how long we walked for. I tripped many times, but Edward wrenched me back each time. If only I could have dashed my head open upon a stone...at least my mind would not have to endure this.

Eventually, when I tried to take my next step, Lord Edward held me back, keeping a firm hold on my bodice. "We go up here," he said blankly. He pulled me back against his body. His breath was suddenly warm in my ear, "If you value your life, I suggest you do not try to run."

He let go of my laces. Without his pressure, I lost all strength and fell to my knees upon the dirt floor. Edward ignored me, instead taking a long wooden pole which leant against the wall. He raised it up into the air.

Where I expected it to stop at the tunnel ceiling, it kept going, until it was almost entirely concealed in some sort of hole or vent...and then he must have hit something, for there was a short clang as the wood met metal. He brought the stick back down and propped it once again against the wall.

His hand grasped my arm, pulling me up again. I gasped as his arms then went around my waist. "What are you – "

"Silence," he said, then suddenly lifted me. I went up into the hole. "Climb," he ordered.

"What?" I choked. What was this madness...how did I get to be here?

"The ladder."

I glimpsed a wooden rung. I reached for it, clinging on. Edward then let go of me. I scrambled to get my feet onto the rungs lower down. Thank the Lord they held me this time...

"Up, Isabella," Edward said from below.

My skirts pulled me down as I tried to climb.

Suddenly, there was a sharp screeching noise, and a perfect circle opened above me. Cold air flew in. The black oval of a face peered down, "'ello 'ello! What's this then?"

"Nothing," Lord Edward called up.

"Ha!" The man exclaimed, "You found 'er then?"

I reached the top, and the man sat back as my head came through. I'd come up onto a street...'twas night now. Not far away, I could hear the bustle of horses and people, but the street was deserted. And so it was dangerous...

A grubby hand grabbed my elbow and I shrieked as the man pulled me out the rest of the way.

"Silence, Miss Swan!" Edward demanded from below me.

I wrenched my arm free as soon as I was standing, and stared at the man. He was a bum, dressed in ragged clothes, with a tattered hat on his head. But his face...I took a startled step back, "You..."

It was the man from before...he was the one I'd asked for directions! This street! I glanced behind him, and there was the porch where he had sat...a few blankets and shawl lay around it. "Who are you?" I asked shakily.

The man grinned, showing blackened teeth, "Howard, love, that's me name. You forgotten so soon?"

Lord Edward emerged from the hole, lithely bringing himself to his feet. "Howard," he said, clapping the beggar on the back, "Thank you, my friend."

"All in a day's work, my lord," he said, then nodded to me, "I _knew _that lass wasn't Miranda."

Miranda? But of course...I'd used her name as my own...

"She won't make that mistake again," Edward said blankly. "Come."

Without another word, he took my wrist and led me across the street. The beggar trotted along beside Edward.

"What other news from the streets?" His lordship asked.

"Five more lost today, my Lord," said the bum. "Little Joseph Browers amongst them."

"What?" Edward said sharply, stopping to look at him.

Howard nodded solemnly, "He was at the market this morn, begging for his mother. No one saw him after."

"Damn!" Edward cursed, his hand clenching around my wrist. He continued walking. "We need more watchers there. It's the easiest target."

"There are too many guards," said Howard as we entered into a dark alleyway.

"I do not care!" He snapped, "This must stop!"

The beggar bowed, "Yes, sire."

We rounded a corner and there, in the depths of this dark, stinking passageway, stood a gleaming black stallion. It whinnied softly as Lord Edward approached it. With his free hand, he gently patted the beast's neck and ran his hand down it's forelock. "Good girl," he murmured. The horse let out a soft whinny in response.

He gave it one last pat before moving round to the saddle bag. He opened the leather pocket and pulled out a small purse, which he threw to Howard. It landed with a clink into his grubby hands.

"Thank you, my Lord," he said quietly.

"You may have just saved my life," Edward said, "Although that coin should not be coming from my coffers..." his eyes burned as he looked at me.

I gulped.

After holding my gaze one more second, he looked back to the bum, "The Swan, upon the eleventh hour. Bring Jonah."

Howard bowed his head, "Yes, my Lord."

_So this time h__e will have aid in his murder..._

The bum shuffled away, back around the corner.

"We must be off," he tugged me over to the horse. I gasped in fright as I was brought to face the beast's belly. I looked down at its massive hooves. No...no he could not expect me to...

But Edward's hands were once again upon my waist, and I was hoisted up to the saddle. I grappled with the leather, my breast pressed against the horse's back as I tried to gain some balance. "Put your leg over, Miss Swan," Lord Edward told me from below.

I did as was bid, trying to swing my leg over. The horse suddenly moved under me, agitatedly moving its legs.

"Oh lord!" I whimpered. But my leg got over, and, though my skirts were misshapen, and my ankles were showing, I felt a little safer.

Edward swung up easily into the saddle in front of me. The hood of his cloak was over his head, concealing his identity. "Put your arms around my waist," he commanded.

"What?" I choked incredulously.

"Very well," he muttered, then kicked the horse, _"En piste!"_

With the sharp French words, the beast suddenly shot off. I shrieked, my hands grappling to get around Lord Edward's waist. I pressed myself hard against his back. I could feel the hard muscles of his stomach underneath my hands. _Good Lord..._

We cantered out of the alleyway and onto the street.

The cold air whipped my hair. The beast's hooves clipped loudly on the cobbles.

We rode fast. I held onto Lord Edward for my very life, my cheek pressed against his back. There was little else I could do. My legs bumped against the side of the horse uncontrollably. I jiggled around as the horse tore down the road.

We entered busier streets. People hurriedly made way for us as we belted through. I had never been at such a speed before!

'twas not long before we were riding down more manicured roads. Better-dressed people stared as we charged past. "Hide your face!" He commanded above the rattle of hooves.

With no hood, I could not do anything but tuck my face against his lordship's back. And it was in such a position that I stayed for the rest of the terrifying journey. Eventually, the beast slowed. A gate was squeaked open and there was a clink of reigns. The thing finally came to a standstill.

"Isabella," Lord Edward said blankly, "Let go."

I realized that my fingers were still fixed upon his leather jerkin, frozen there. My teeth chattered hard, my face still buried in his cloak. My legs would not move...

"I – I'm..." I stuttered, trying to pull myself from him. My eyes opened. We were in a stable, lit by torches on the walls. I could see the rumps and snouts of several horses, their horrid breath showing in the frigid night air. The whole place smelt of shit. I bit my dry lip and slowly detached myself from him, every movement shaky. As soon as he was free of me, Lord Edward swung down, landing easily. And then he lifted my rigid body down. I did not understand myself...all my mind seemed to be reduced to shock...and fear...and so when he let go of me, I simply slid to the floor, amongst the dirt and the hay.

"You are pathetic!" Lord Edward spat, standing above me.

"At least I do not kill!" I breathed.

He squatted down, a hand reaching out to grip my chin, making sure I looked at his flaming eyes. "You almost killed _me _tonight, Miss Swan!" He seethed, white teeth flashing, "You almost had my head on a bloody spit over the Thames!"

"What man could deserve it more?"

With a single breath, his dagger was once more out its scabbard and pressed against my neck. He spoke with ice in his words, "You know _nothing _of life, Isabella Swan. And, going at the rate you are, perhaps you never will!"

"Edward?" Came Lady Esme's voice.

With one last glare, he snapped away from me. "Your silence is your life, Miss Swan."

The stable door swung shut behind him.

I stayed frozen for a very long time. I did not know how long for...perhaps I had fainted or slept, for I did not remember a single thought passing through me. I just remembered staring...

And then Miranda was there, pulling me up and inside. She told me I was late for something...but I could not for the World of me understand what she meant...

Until a bowl freezing cold water was thrown across my face.

I gasped, finding myself in my room, dressed in one of the gowns Madame Tulle had prepared. "How late am I?" I said to Miranda, my voice hoarse.

"Very," she said shortly, yanking my hair up on top of my head. "My _lady..._or shall I simply call you by mine own name?"

So his lordship did tell her everything...I kept quiet, knowing that I had greater problems than an upset chambermaid.

'twas only my second night here, and yet I knew I had already given the Cullen family more than enough cause to throw me out. _Though perhaps it is less dangerous on the streets than within these walls..._

Miranda opened the door for me. I took a deep breath, knowing that I was to face him yet again. _Survival...survival is all that matters now, Isabella...I must look normal, I must be pleasant...to save myself..._

I was admitted into the great hall with the same "Miss Isabella, my lords," as last night. But this time, there were ten, not nine, people seated at the table. The only one I truly noticed, though, was Edward. He had exchanged his plain leather jerkin for a black satin doublet. His hair was neat, his demeanour that of a gentleman who'd spent his day at the hunt. _Not that of a murderer..._

Lord Carlisle watched me closely as I curtsied and took my place next to Alice. She smiled at me as I sat. I tried to smile back, though our easy walk this morning felt like a lifetime ago. Lord Jasper was once more seated on her left, turned almost fully away from her as he discussed the goings on at the Royal Exchange with Lord Iren.

I gulped and set about on looking normal. _Straight back, chin up...don't look terrified..._

"Miss Isabella?" Came a voice from my right.

I gasped, having been so occupied with myself that I had not noticed the man sitting by me. He was of a modest height, with tan skin and bright, youthful brown eyes. He was dressed in a pale blue doublet and wore a flat cap with a white feather poking out the back. Though his clothes did not quite seem to fit his broad shoulders, he seemed almost handsome...

I smiled shakily, "Forgive me, I was lost in my thoughts."

He gazed at me easily, his rich eyes twinkling, "Worry not, good lady. 'tis so easy to get lost amongst all this," he waved a hand at the grand, magnificent hall, "I prefer the fresh air of the country, myself."

"I too," I said, forgetting for a moment the horrible fear that lay upon me. "May I ask your name?"

"Jacob," he replied, "Jacob Black." He took my hand and kissed my knuckles.

I bit my lip in surprise. "So...you are from the country?"

He nodded, "Aye. By the looks of you, you seem to be as well, though perhaps not from the fields..." he reached a finger to my cheek, "I swear this skin has not seen one glint of the sunlight..." he smiled at me, dropping his hand, "It has the touch of an angel, my lady."

I blushed, wishing only that I could have one of my high necked dresses returned to me, so that now the man could not see the way my chest was heaving a little with the feel of his fingertips...

"So what brings you here?" I asked quietly.

He stabbed a piece of roast whale meat with his fork, "His lordship was kind enough to send an invitation for me to come and stay for a while." He smiled, "I shall be staying here for at least a week."

"In this house?" I asked.

He nodded, his lips curving, "You must show me around, Miss Isabella."

I blushed, "I am afraid I do not know this house well, good sir. I only arrived last night."

He raised an eyebrow, "Then we shall have to explore together, good lady."

"I assure you, Master Black," came _his _dreaded voice, "Mistress Isabella has already done much prying of this house."

I glanced at Lord Edward. He was still lounging nonchalantly in his chair, playing with the goblet in his hand.

"Oh..." said Master Jacob, slightly confused, "Well then the city, perhaps?"

"I thought you said you did not like the city?" Edward continued.

Jacob looked down, "Well I – "

Lord Edward smirked, enjoying his play, "Perhaps a hunt in one of the parks would be better?"

Trying to retain his dignity, Master Jacob looked at me, "Well...do you ride, Miss Isabella?"

Edward scoffed, "You would make a better rider out of a Spanish drunkard, lad."

Anger fired in me, but it was countered by fear...

Our conversation ended after that, and I sat in silence for the remainder of the meal, save a few happy questions from Lord Talmey about how I was settling in.

I went with the ladies this time when Lady Esme excused us.

We sat in the drawing room in front of a brilliant fire. Esme and Rosalie picked up their needlework, whilst I sat staring into the flames.

"Mama," Alice said, standing at her side, "May I play?"

"No, Alice," she replied tiredly, "'tis too rowdy for so late at night, and Rosalie's babe is already ailing her."

"What if I played softly?" Alice asked desperately, "Oh, mother, I so want for Bella to hear me! I could sing a lullaby!" Alice turned to me, "You want to hear me play, don't you?"

I smiled, "I would love to...I have not heard much music before."

Lady Esme sighed, "Fine, then, simply for Miss Isabella's education."

"Oh thank you, mama!" Lady Alice squeaked and went over to a large, strangely shaped table...and lifted a lid. Oh...'twas not a table after all, but the instrument itself. "It's a harpsichord," Alice said, running her hands over the black keys. There were white ones, too, at some intervals. It was like the inverse of a church organ, although there were more keys. "Father bought it for me all the way from Italy..." She stood and lifted up the top of the thing and propped it up using a length of polished wood. The inside of the lid was a serene mural of a lake and trees.

"It is lovely," I said softly, coming to stand by it.

Alice smiled and sat down on the heavily embroidered stool.

And then she began to play. It was a beautiful, haunting tune. Her fingers flew up and down the keys with ease. I did not understand how one hand could be doing one thing and the other something else...but they did, and in doing so created a beautiful melody...Alice shut her eyes, humming along as she played. And the hum turned into her voice, singing a wordless harmony to the rest of the music.

Her voice was pretty; light and innocent, just as she was.

"Alice!" Lady Esme suddenly snapped, "The men are coming, be silent."

The music stopped abruptly, and Alice pulled the lid shut. "Mother doesn't like for me to play in front of the men," she told me quietly, "She says it's not good enough when I can't just stay with the music." She made a face as she put the top of the instrument down, "But I do so love to sing..."

"It was beautiful, Lady Alice," I assured her.

She gave me a sad smile and went to perch on a low stool by her mother.

The gentlemen came in only a few minutes later, as predicted. Lord Carlisle did not take his seat with Lady Esme, though, but instead gestured for me to step out for a moment. I hurriedly stood and followed him out into the entrance hall.

He spoke quietly, so that no one inside would hear, "You have become acquainted with Master Black, Isabella?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Lord Carlisle nodded, "Good. I expect you to show him every courtesy, Isabella. His father has shown a great interest in the dowry I have offered him."

"Dowry?" I repeated, my heart having a sudden jolt. "I didn't think...so soon..."

"I believe the sooner you go the better, my dear," he said, looking me up and down, "You have caused us far more trouble than we deserve, considering what we are giving you, Miss Swan. We did not have to take you in."

"I know, my Lord," I whispered, "I did not mean to cause your family any strife, I swear it."

He gazed at me, "But you wish to cause Edward strife, do you not?"

"I..." I looked down, "I cannot condone what he does..."

"You do not understand it, dear girl," Lord Carlisle said gently.

"Then why does no one explain?" I asked.

"Because it is he himself who must give you that answer."

"Why?" I asked despairingly.

"Because it is his choice to tell his story to whom he wishes."

"Is it a story that a jury would believe?" I said fiercely.

Suddenly, Lord Carlisle was much closer to me, glaring down at me, "Edward is like a son to me, Isabella. If you _dare _to ever even _think _of putting him in front of such a jury, I will ensure that you are not welcomed here or in any comfortable house in Britain, my promise to your mother or not. I will tell the World that not only were you the daughter of one of the most hated criminals in England, but that you were his aid. Do you understand, Miss Swan?"

My words were no more than a whisper, "Yes, my lord."

He took a step back, his face returning to its usual calm demeanour.

I felt my knee shake. "May I please be excused?" I breathed, on the verge of tears.

He nodded blankly, "You may."

I ran up the stairs as if the devil himself were upon me.

I burst into my room just as the tears began to spill. Tears of fear and of pain and of loneliness...of anger and hopelessness. I would always be controlled by others! Always. Right from my father, to Lord Edward, to Lord Carlisle, to Master Jacob...I would never be free...I would always live in fear of _something!_

I grasped my pillow, part of me screaming for myself to stop. To grow up...for I was so pathetic! I was so weak! And I had always been that way...

My sobs reverberated off the walls around me, my face felt red and puffy, my sheets wet from my crying.

Life had been so very simple before my father had died...but, then, every storm cloud must at some point break. The way my mother died because of me, the way I was born so weak, so early – my life was a disaster from the beginning.

Again, I did not know how much time was passing me by, but this time I was at least fully conscious. I just lay on my bed, my boots still on, thinking...Master Carlisle was right; I should leave as soon as possible. _Why do I wish to stay, anyway? There is nothing for me here...just questions.. _questions which I knew would plague me for the rest of my life.

But they were still better left unanswered. It would be best for me to woo Jacob Black into marriage...and then he would take me far from here. Far from London and all its inhabitants. And I would be as free as I could ever be.

Yes, that was what I had to do..._but innocent people will still be dying...he will still keep on murdering...how can I ignore this?_

"I hate him!" Alice's voice startled me out of my thoughts. I heard her storming down the corridor, opening the door next to mine..._so that's her room..._

"Alice!" It was him! I heard him follow her in, shutting the door behind them.

I knew it was not right, but as silently as I could I crept to the wall and pressed my ear against it.

"Oh, come here, Ali," his voice was so soft, gentle...

I heard Lady Alice sniffling into him, "I don't want to get married."

"I know," he said. "But sometimes we must do things we don't want to do."

"You always do what you want..."

He let out a soft laugh, "And that has not always done me well. Lord Jasper is a trustworthy man, he will do you much good."

"He never speaks to me!"

"He will," Edward said, "With time, I know you will get to understand each other."

"He's twice my age!"

He sighed, "Oh Alice...age, gender, class...they do not matter. Upon judgement day we will all simply be human. Age, like everything else, is simply a manmade concept. You are just as important as your father or, by God, the Queen herself! Lord Jasper simply does not know you yet."

"But will he even like me...?"

"My sweet cousin," he said affectionately, "you are intelligent and talented and as fair as the angels themselves. Lord Jasper is very lucky to have you."

"And what about...well...what everyone does on their wedding night?"

There was a brief silence, then Edward cleared his throat, "Alice...perhaps you should talk to your mother – "

"I've asked mother and she said it didn't matter what it was like. And I asked Rosalie but she just told me it was painful but...something or other about Emmett making it amazing. And then I asked Isabella and she hasn't even done it!"

_Oh lord..._it took all my control not to collapse to the ground in humiliation...

"What?" I heard him splutter, then quickly his voice regained composure, "Look, Alice...would you like me to slip a word into Lord Jasper? Make sure he's...ah..." for the first time, I heard the hint of embarrassment in Edward's voice... "Careful?"

"Could you?" Alice's voice sounded brighter now. "And Yvette?"

"I can certainly try and get Yvette back for you," he said. I knew he was relieved to be on to another subject. "Just let me speak with him."

"Don't threaten him," she warned. Thank the lord she had sense...

"Dear Alice, I would not. You know that," he sounded sincere... "Lord Jasper is a good man. He has opinions which don't best please you and me, but you and I are funny creatures of malcontent," I heard the smile in his voice, "I will convince him to let you ride, so long as you promise not to go storming out in a fuss again in front of your parents and all their guests."

"I'm sorry," she said guiltily, "I am just sick of hearing him go on and on about horses when he knows _nothing..."_

"Alice..."

"Well he doesn't!" She exclaimed. "He trades off his own horses like they're those apples that Mister Davidson grows in the orchard!"

He laughed, "You will one day teach him otherwise, I am sure. Come on, now. I've got places to be. Time for bed."

"Will you read to me?"

"I have very little time and you are not even dressed yet," he said.

"Please, Edward?"

He huffed good-naturedly, "You will have poor Lord Jasper reading you novels before long...now, where is that book of yours?"

His voice turned flowing and powerful as he began to read,

"It lies not in our power to love or hate,

For will in us is overruled by fate.

When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,

We wish that one should love, the other win;

And one especially do we affect

Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:

The reason no man knows; let it suffice

What we behold is censured by our eyes.

Where both deliberate, the love is slight:

Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?"

I heard the dull thud of a book closing, "And that," said Edward, "Is where to you, my beloved cousin, I bid goodnight."

"Isabella doesn't believe in that sort of thing," Alice said, ignoring his farewell.

"What do you mean?"

"She says true love is impractical."

"She is right."

"Then why do you read me such things?"

"Because impractical does not mean wrong..." he paused, "But I do not suggest you search for it. It is so very rare, and yet the idea so intoxicating that it can consume you...blind you to all other forms of happiness."

"Do you search for it?"

There was another silence, "Every day," Edward replied quietly, almost too softly for me to hear. "Goodnight Alice."

"But..."

He shut the door before she had a chance to say anything more.

I stayed in my position for a few more minutes, and then slowly stood back up, easing my tensed muscles.

I sat on my bed, feeling oddly peaceful. That Edward...well, I had ne'er seen him before...but at the same time, I felt as though I had always known he'd been there...

Only a few minutes later, a door shut down the corridor and I heard his footsteps. I knew he was going...leaving to meet his friends...and then on to killing whichever man it was tonight..._no matter how great his humanity is with his sister, I must remember it does not account for his inhumanity against all other innocents..._

Uneasiness stirred in me once more. There was something wrong on this night...or, rather, something was going to go wrong..._of course something is wrong! Some poor man will be living his last few hours right now!_

I swallowed. But there was nothing I could do...even if I did get to Edward again, he obviously had friends this time to help him. And he would kill me. This time he would not hesitate.

And so I lay back, reaching for Lord Carlisle's copy of _The Faerie Queen. _

It was perhaps half an hour later when Miranda entered and helped me prepare for bed, bringing me a wash basin and releasing my hair from all its pins and fastenings.

It was a relief to finally pull off the gown which had slowed me so much when I had tried to escape Edward. Then she took off my stomacher, which gave my waist the slightest reprieve. I wondered what I would have done if I _had _escaped him...where would I have gone? Whilst she untied my kirtle, I leant down and pulled off my stockings. Where _could _I have gone? I truly knew no one...

"Miranda!" Came a hushed call from the door.

I frowned, looking at the maid.

She looked livid. "Sebastian..." she opened the door to reveal the boy from last night – the one who had aided Lord Edward and I in our escape from the Thames. Quickly, Miranda pulled him in by the ear and closed the door. "What on Earth are you doing here?" She demanded.

Recovering from the shock, I stepped forward, "I believe I have the same question."

The boy gave an awkward bow, "I'm sorry, Lady." I noticed his breath was fast, "It's just...I bring word from one of our connections within the Sheriff's guard. They have been told to prepare for a night raid."

"A night raid?" I repeated.

He nodded, gulping in air, "The Sheriff said they were closing in on the murderer...at the Swan Theatre."

My heart froze. "No."

"But..." said Miranda, having the same realization. "How did he find out?"

"Oh Lord..." I dropped to my knees, frantically pushing through the pile of my skirts. "Oh Sweet God," I whispered as I lifted out my stockings and found them empty. "No..." and it was nowhere in the pile...

"What is it?" Asked the boy.

I looked at Miranda, "The note I stole from his lordship's rooms..."

"He said he stopped you before you could say – "

"But the note is not here," I said, "It must have fallen when I was in the Sheriff's office..."

Miranda stared at me, "You have just sentenced him to his death."

And it was in that moment that I realized that that could not happen. Because there was more to Lord Edward than I truly understood. The way he was with Lady Alice...the way he had gained the trust and love of so many...the way he made me feel safe when I knew he himself was my worst danger. No, he could not die because of me – because I had passed judgement when I was so ignorant. Lord Carlisle had said that Edward had a tale behind all of this. Perhaps it would not be sufficient. Perhaps it would not justify what he did. But I had to hear it before I could possibly judge.

Without a word, I pulled on my stockings and shoes, and then fastened my cloak around my shoulders.

I looked to his two faithful servants, "How do I get there?"

* * *

The Swan Theatre is around where the Tate Modern is now. Close to the Globe. Bankside area.

The poem is by Christopher Marlowe and is called 'Who Ever Loved That Loved Not at First Sight?' Anyone note the irony for poor Alice?

**Please send me a review! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

Huzzah! The All Blacks won the Rugby World Cup!

Huzzah! The year is almost over!

Huzzah! I can finally sit down and do some writing!

For the first time in...ages...

Alright, I do apologize! But it is not through laziness, I can assure you. I have run myself into the ground these past few months with various things. Now I am extremely weary..._extremely._

**Thank you to all those who have reviewed!**

**Without your continuing support I would not have kept going with this.**

**You are amazing, thank you so much!**

Okay, without further ado, here it is!

Please review!

**And Enjoy!**

* * *

"His lordship sees the Swan as a safe haven," Miranda whispered to me as we reached the window. "He has connections there which make it easy to conduct his business – "

"His murders, you mean?" I snapped, my nerves making me short.

Miranda suddenly gripped my arm and wrenched me toward her, her eyes poisonous.

I stared, "You forget your place," I said through gritted teeth.

"If," she snarled, ignoring me, "I cannot trust that you will do all you can to save my master, then I shall go myself."

My resolve fell. "No," I said, then pulled my arm away. "It is my fault. I shall pay."

She glared at me.

A door slammed somewhere upstairs, and we both jumped, returning from our anger to the task at hand.

Sebastian was in the rose garden below, and he gave us the signal that it was all clear.

Quickly, I hitched myself over the window ledge, finding it much easier in just my petticoat.

I climbed down, thorns tearing at my sweaty palms. Truly, I had exited through this window more than through the front door...

Once I'd finally reached the bottom, Sebastian whispered to me the quick instructions of how to get there. All the while, I saw the fear in his eyes. The way he twisted his hands...

"Sebastian," I said as he finished, putting a hand on his shoulder. He was fourteen, and already a little taller than me. But he seemed so young... "You mustn't worry. I will warn him, I promise."

He looked down and nodded, "I'll go rally the Men."

"The men?" I said.

"The Noble's Men," he told me, with an unemotional smile, "The Queen's not the only one with a guard, my lady."

There was so very much I did not know..._and that I shall never find out if I do not save his Lordship!_

"How long will they take?" I asked.

Sebastian looked away, "Too long. But I still must."

I nodded, "I will go now, then."

"Miss Isabella!" Came a hiss.

I looked up to see Miranda's face poking out of the window.

A black object suddenly fell from her hand and lay in the soft earth in front of me.

I picked it up. It was a knife in a buckled sheath.

"If you do not return with my master then that blade will be your most merciful death," she gave me a deadly look, "I _assure _you."

I nodded and quickly buckled the sheath tightly around my right leg.

"Thank you," I said, knowing my suicide was not _really _the only reason she'd given it to me...or so I hoped.

Beneath her anger toward me, I saw the frenzy of worry and concern. The way she clutched the plain metal cross around her throat, the way her eyes kept darting up and down the street, as if the soldiers were to walk by at any moment.

"Bring him home," she said bitterly.

I just gave the both of them one last look and set off.

The night was truly wintery. Cold air whipped at me, tugging my loose hair all around me. My fingers were clutched around my thin skirt, lifting it so that I could run.

And run I did. My breath was laboured, my footsteps scuffing, my legs aching. But still I kept running, following Sebastian's instructions to the water's edge.

Alone now, my thoughts went wild, _Edward...Edward...oh Lord, please still be safe. Please hesitate...do not act...not yet...not when they are there._

I shivered as I ran, finding difficulty in remembering just why I wished to save such a man. I could not find words anymore...just a need for him to stay alive...

I reached the river side, which was almost empty for the time was almost midnight, and rushed to the stone steps down to the boats. A grubby, well built man sat in a little wooden dinghy, and raised an eyebrow as I hurried down to him.

"To Bankside," I breathed, pushing a groat, the last of my wealth, into his hand. "Please."

He blinked, and I wondered if perhaps he were a mute, but then he said, "Ge' in, then."

I clambered into the boat, quickly sitting down as it rocked dangerously. "With speed, I beg you."

He nodded reasonably, "Fair enough."

He pulled the big oars through the water, and we set off. For the first time, I wished I knew how to ride, for I knew I would have been there by now if I had been upon one of those horrible beasts.

"What's go' you all wound up, lass?" He asked, studying me as he rowed. "You up to no good?"

"No," I said, pulling my hood up, throwing my nervous features into shadow.

The boatman laughed, "Tonight ain't the night for evil, love. The bridge 'as been busier than ever."

"Busy with who?" I asked sharply.

"The Sherry's Guard, lass," he told me.

"The Sheriff's Guard?" I repeated, "How long ago? Tell me!"

He shrugged as he heaved the oars back, "A half hour ago, perhaps. They were pretty stealthy, mind. No fanfare, tha's for sure. All sticking to shadows. My ma'am always said I 'ad good eyes, though."

_A half hour...they would be there by now...was it all over? Had Lord Edward been caught in the act of murder?_

"Can you go any faster?" I whispered, fear pulsing through my veins.

The man frowned suspiciously, "Wha' are you up to, lassy?"

"Nothing, I tell you," I said. "Nothing."

He looked discontent, but gave the oars a bigger tug.

We reached the stone steps on the other side not soon after. We had travelled in a diagonal, away from London Bridge. I knew I had already given too much away, and so I asked him, "Where is the Swan Theatre?"

"The Swan?" The oarsman repeated, helping me out.

"Yes," I said, going up the steps.

"Ah," he said with a knowing smile, "So tha's your game, is it?" He was looking me up and down fully now.

I did not understand, and there was not enough time to ask. "Please, would you just tell me where?"

He chuckled, "Walk along the river side, then take a left up first decen' street you come to. Swan's in the Paris Gardens. You can't miss it."

"Thank you," I said, then hitched my skirts and began to run.

_What if he is dead? What if he is caught? How must I live with myself? Oh Lord...I must warn him!_

Dark shadows of men jumped out of the way as I darted past, finding speed in my fear. I took a sharp turn left, down the street the oarsman spoke of.

There it was! Though I had ne'er been to one, I knew what a playhouse had to look like. The Swan was in the shape of a great circle, towering high into the air with its thatched roof and white and black exterior. But the doors were firmly shut, and no light came from within.

I swallowed. _Where is he?_

Not a sound came from it...but there was a building connected to the playhouse, dwarfed by its size. Torches blazed outside, and rowdy laughter and talking came through the walls. A sign swung above the door:

_The Swan Inn_

Above the words, it showed a mutilated swan, cut and stuffed for a feast.

I heard my own breath now, quiet but still laboured. Was I soon to be in a similar situation as that swan? Was it perhaps an omen that I shared the same name as the dead thing? Was I wise to enter these walls?

_I am here...and so wisdom has long since left me – so it does not matter anymore...I must try...I must keep going._

With one final breath of the night air, I opened the door.

Immediately, I was enveloped in a hot, putrid scent of ale and sweat. The inn, which seemed to be a rectangular room, stretching a decent way back, was full of people – already I was having difficulty in not touching anyone else, such was the crush. Men, some only wearing their undershirts on top, staggered around, laughing and yelling, snorting up mead from big tankards.

The room was brightly lit, torches flickering from the wooden columns. A lad sat on a rough wooden table, trying to play his lute above the boisterous singing of the men around him. Women sauntered around here and there, their breasts hardly concealed by their tattered dresses. Their hair was put up in frizzy dos, secured with scraps of bright fabrics. Their horrid, high pitched laughter filled me with disgust as they approached their various men, throwing themselves upon them in ways I had never _seen_ a man and a woman interact...why would one choose such a life?

But there was no time to ponder such a question, for as two jolly men staggered away to order more drink, I caught sight of them. At a table in the far corner of the inn, away from the noise and light, sat four men, their black hoods shadowing their faces in darkness. Each had a tankard in front of them, but none drank, and none spoke. 'Twas a sinister sight to behold.

It did not take me long to spot Edward in the middle of them. Though his face was hidden, I recognized immediately his strong jaw, his straight, confident posture, and the way his finger circled the rim of the tankard. Always circling...

I blinked, realizing how quickly I had become accustomed to his mannerisms. Remembering exactly who he was, I quickly looked to his companions. I was not so quick to recognize them. The one to Edward's immediate left was much slighter than his lordship, with narrow shoulders and a small, pointed chin and a soft, almost feminine mouth.

Next to him sat an older figure, with a plump neck, and a slouch befitting of a..._of a beggar..._I suddenly realized, _Howard! _Of course, his Lordship had asked him to come! I recognized the lazy smile upon his face.

On Edward's other side was another man, this one I did not know. He sat with his head low, and all I could glimpse was a bearded chin.

Resigned they all looked, but not as if they were going to commit murder, and not as if they had been caught...

My eyes darted around the room again, looking all around for a glint of armour or uniform...but all I could see were drunks and whores.

I looked back to the four, still silent.

_Perhaps the guards are not here yet, _I thought hopefully. _Perhaps they gave in...perhaps Edward and his accomplices are safe..._but then perhaps the men were in hiding, ready to jump out as soon as he made his move...that was more likely. My eyes were not as keen as some, after all my reading. _I have to tell him..._nerves thrummed in me. For if I was wrong – if I showed my presence and it turned out that he already knew about the guards, or that they weren't even here, then Edward would kill me. Truly, this time. He had been two seconds from killing me only a few hours ago. He would not stop himself again.

But I still had to tell him.

A roar went up from the crowd as the musician started up a jig, and my view of them was blocked once more. The lute player was joined by a man on the pipe, and a lad jumped up onto a table and began a fast dance, his bare feet wrapping on the wood. The audience thrust their tankards to the air, sloshing ale onto the heads of others, shouting their enthusiasm. A whore got up behind him, and they began what must have been the commoners' version of a Volta...she pulled her skirts up as she kicked about, and the men roared their approval.

Sickened, I looked away. Now was the time.

I began pushing through the crowd, trying not to breathe as foul scents assaulted me from every which way. I went up onto the tips of my toes, searching for where I was meant to be headed...

But the table was empty.

_Oh good God no..._

I looked around me, but there were no black hoods. I pushed further into the crowd, scrabbling in a desperate attempt to find him.

Where could they have gone? What were they doing?

Suddenly, I spotted a black hood again. _Edward! _He was talking to another man, plump and dressed in rich finery. A nobleman...

_His target, _I realized.

Oh no...it was going to be too close. With new haste, I began making my way toward them, shoving through the people.

But I was too rough. I grabbed the back of a man's chemise, trying to pull him out of my way, but he spun around. "Oh 'ello," said the man. He was thug-like and bald as an egg. "What can I do for you, little lady?" His drunk eyes scanned down my body.

I gulped and looked away, trying to keep Edward in my view. "Aww," the man cooed, "Don't be shy lassy..."

_No...no I did not need this! _

I looked back to Edward. He was beginning to head toward a set of doors on the right. _No!_

I tried to follow, but a couple of others had noticed me, and they turned from the entertainment to look at me. One of them laughed, "How much has the old innkeeper got you selling for, eh?"

I realized what the boatman had meant earlier – he thought, because of my dress, that I was some sort of a...a whore... "How dare you!" I exclaimed, disgusted.

The bald man's other friend chuckled, "Well, how much'll he charge for a peek? A penny?" He reached out and pulled my hands from my cloak and spread the fabric back over my shoulders, exposing my chest.

Without a thought, my hand whipped out and slapped the man across the face.

He stumbled a little, and I knew it was my chance to run.

But the other two grabbed me. The one I'd slapped looked back at me, his eyes livid, his fingers on the already red part of his cheek. "Too far, girl," he growled.

The three of them began advancing on me. I gulped, stepping back. But there were more people behind me. There was nowhere I could run...and no one would care if I was...well, that...in this cursed place...

Their dirty hands reached for me, pulling my cloak entirely from me. The bald one's hands skimmed the top of my breasts.

I let out a whimper. _Oh sweet Lord..._

A body suddenly stepped in front of me. "Get your hands off the girl."

It took me a moment, to place the rich timbre of the voice..._Black...Jacob Black!_

Peeking under his arm, I saw the men back off, "She is my fiancée," Master Jacob said. "Unless you wish for a court case, I suggest you leave. _Now."_

They scampered off, pushing through the crowd to the doors.

"Thank you," I whispered as he picked up my cloak.

"What are you doing here?" He said, looking around covertly as he fastened it around my shoulders.

"Well what are _you _doing here?" I asked, avoiding his question.

"I followed you," he replied distractedly.

"You what?"

He shook his head, looking at me with worried brown eyes, "It doesn't matter; we must get away from here, Miss Isabella. This is the wrong side of the city and there's trouble afoot tonight..."

"Trouble?" I repeated, not moving even though he took my elbow.

He sighed exasperatedly, "Something is happening here tonight. The city guard is here, Isabella.."

I grasped his arm, "The guard?"

"Yes, Isabella," he said, pulling me toward the doors, "Now come, we must – "

"Where?" I demanded, my heart racing.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "We just need to – "

"_Where?" _I said it again.

He blinked at me, "The theatre...now come!"

I froze. The theatre...

I looked over to the doors Edward had been heading for.

_No...oh God...oh Lord..._

I tore my arm from Jacob's grip and ran for the doors. My body slammed against them, and I pulled, but they were locked tight. I could yell...but that would just force them to act quicker...oh god...

"Isabella!" Master Jacob exclaimed. "What on Earth are you – "

In one bittersweet movement, Miranda's knife was out of its sheath and pressed against Jacob's stomach.

"Isabella," he breathed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to find another to the theatre," I said, praying my voice was strong and did not betray the nerves I felt. "You will not stop me..." I swallowed, "Please."

"What is this madness?" He whispered, looking down at me.

I just shook my head and began pushing back through the crowd, clutching my knife in the folds of my skirt.

I reached the doors and burst out into the cold night once more. Jacob came out behind me.

I readied the knife again, "I said – "

"No," he put up his hands, "I will not stop you. But whatever you are doing, I must come with you...I beg you."

I looked at his broad frame and hesitantly nodded. "But do not blame me if you get killed."

His eyes flashed in surprise, but he said nothing, and we began to rush.

We came around the side of the theatre. Two guards dressed in black were now stationed at the doors, pikes in hand.

My heart thundered as I saw them, the first proof that they were here. That it was my fault.

They glared at me and Master Jacob. Taking his arm, as if I were not threatening his life, I promptly turned back, out of their view.

"Isabella, that is the _Queen's guard,"_ Jacob hissed. "They will kill you if you intervene in whatever they are doing."

"I have to find another entrance," I said, ignoring his words, for they terrified me.

Dropping his arm, I set off around the side of the inn. Surely there would be another door...

The passageway between the Swan and another building was tiny. I went sideways down it, glad not to have my hooped farthingale on. Master Jacob shuffled in behind me.

We reached the end. More buildings surrounded us, but there was space enough to run along the back of the inn to the curve of the theatre.

"Thank the Lord," I whispered. A door was set into the exterior. There was no lock. I supposed that they did not think it worth the money. A blessing and a curse. For now there were no more obstacles...I had to go now... "Stay here," I commanded Jacob.

Conjuring what bravery I had left, I threw up my hood and pulled it open, praying it did not screech. I had to get his Lordship out without the guards thinking he was leaving...somehow...

Inside, I seemed to have entered into where the actors resided. A skull lay upon one table, along with a mass of wigs and clothes. Stairs went up on either sides to the balconies, and past that, dark and ominous, was the stage.

Wooden boards blocked all but a little sliver of it from view. I supposed it was where the actors hid before going on.

"Always loved a good play," came a drunk voice.

I bit my tongue, keeping back the scream of surprise.

"Saw one of those Marlowe ones once. Faustus, I think..." But clearly the guards had not shown themselves yet...

Where were they?

As quietly as I knew how, I began tiptoeing forward, past the steps and much closer to the stage, where the actors would have hidden before entering. From here, I could see all.

The theatre was shaped like a ring, I realized. There was no roof over the centre, and the night sky watched from above. The moon was the only light. It showed the outline of three balconies, right down to the hay-strewn ground, and finally the stage, which was wide and rectangular, made of worn wood. But I still could not see any guards...

The man who had spoken was standing in the centre of the stage. It was Edward's target – the nobleman.

"Watching all those prissy little beggar boys prancing around in girls' dresses," the man spat on the floorboards, "What a joke!" He laughed and spread the spit around with his shoe.

In his drunken state, the simple action seemed too much for him, and he stumbled, coming down on his fat bottom. Embarrassed, he shakily came back to his feet, "Anyway, why am I in here with you when I could be out there shagging some wench? What's this deal you spoke of?"

"I heard you slaughtered a few people," came Edward's voice. It was less cultured, rougher, like a commoner's. He was leaning against a pillar close to the door, his hood still up. "Outside your home the other day."

"Yes," slurred the man, "What of it?"

I saw the smirk upon Edward's lips. He pushed off the pillar and walked toward the man. "Are they not a dreadful nuisance?" He asked charmingly.

"Mmm, indeed, indeed. They keep coming back..."

Edward climbed a small set of steps up onto the stage. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword. "Do you know why?" He asked.

"Because they're thieving little bastards," the nobleman replied.

I saw the glint of Edward's eyes as he finally came to stand in front of the man. _Oh sweet Lord, I did not wish to witness this..._

"Well," he said softly, "Let them trouble you no more."

Two things happened very quickly then. In a single movement, Lord Edward had shoved the man to his knees, and his gleaming sword was at the drunk's neck. And at the same time, from the corner of my eye, I saw a movement in the dark. Just a single movement...

The Guard was everywhere.

"My lord! No!" In the split of the second, I was upon the stage, running toward Edward. "It's a trap!"

Edward's face was beyond anger as he realized it was me. His hand gripped my wrist painfully, "What in God's name are you doing here!" He shouted.

"The guard!" I screamed as he wrenched me toward him.

"What?" He paused, his nails digging into my skin.

"The guard," I whimpered, "The guard are – "

But it was too late. Suddenly, all around us, they appeared. Like a curtain had been lifted, armoured men were there, along every balcony, stepping out from every shadow. Their muskets were loaded and aimed, pointing directly at us.

Edward's hand slipped from my wrist to around my waist, pulling me protectively against him. His eyes scanned the hundreds of faces surrounding him. He still his sword in front of us, as if it would bar against the bullets.

The doors burst open. Two guards strode in, followed by a man dressed in black and red.

"Noble!" He shouted. "I hereby arrest you by order of her majesty the Queen!"

"N-n-noble?" The drunk man stuttered from the floor beside us.

"Noble _killer!" _Exclaimed the black and red man. "Murderer! Slanderer! Filth! Coward! Traitor – "

"Traitor to who, Sheriff?" Edward said, his voice surprisingly calm, despite the tension I could feel in his body.

"To her majesty the – "

"I have no allegiance with the Queen, my Lord Crossby. Therefore it is not treason."

The Sheriff hesitated a moment, clearly not expecting the words. But then he laughed, "What do I care? You are not in a position to speak such words anymore, Noble; you are surrounded."

At Edward's lack of response, the Sheriff laughed again, "And he is finally caught. You did not think you could evade us forever, did you?"

Lord Edward said nothing. He simply gazed at the man. I saw the thoughts ticking within his mind.

Realizing he was not going to be answered, the Sheriff went on, "So now, shall we finally unmask the face which has been intriguing us for these past two years?" He signalled to the two guards on his flanks.

They walked to either side of the stage, and went up the steps.

Edward pulled me tightly against him and put his lips to my hair, "As soon as the fighting starts," He whispered. "Run."

As the two guards began advancing across the stage, Edward turned to the Sheriff and said, "You will have to kill me first."

My heart squeezed painfully at the words.

Lord Crossby chuckled, "It's two on one."

Edward glared at him, "You know my skills."

The man shrugged, "Entertain us."

The two guards reached us. Edward pushed me away and clasped his sword in both hands, immediately parrying the blows of his two enemies. Metal clanged with metal, and Edward spun and slashed like a dancer of death.

I knew I was meant to run, but I stayed rooted to the spot upon the stage. I could not leave him.

Edward grunted as he blocked two blows with his one sword, then he jabbed one man in the stomach, pushing him off the stage. He fell unconscious.

The other guard now advanced on him again, pounding Edward with blow after blow. But Edward pushed back, his sword blurring with speed. The guard was finally knocked to his knees.

I looked away, not wishing to see the kill. But it was then that I saw the Sheriff gesture to one of the guards above him.

The guard nodded and loaded his gun. There was the click as he cocked it.

_That coward..._

I glanced at Edward, who was running his blade through the man's heart. He had no idea...

"No!" I cried.

The sheriff raised his hand.

My shoes beat upon the stage floor.

I crashed into Edward. The gunshot rang out.

And then I felt that I was falling...and I felt something else...but I did not know what...and then my body hit the floor, and suddenly all there was was pain. Blossoming in me, ripping through me like wildfire. A shriek tore from my throat. And then I was gasping for breath, but the air would not come to me. Blood bubbled up into my throat. My vision was of red...red and only red.

I barely recognised someone's presence behind me.

"Isabella," came a tortured whisper. Hands were on me, pushing my cloak back. "Oh good God, what have I done?"

* * *

The prostitutes of Southwark were named the 'Winchester Geese', as it was the Bishop of Winchester who permitted them to do their jobs in London.

The Swan did not have an alehouse attached to it, but it was used frequently for drinking, prostitution and bear baiting.

God I love the Tudor Times!

Alright, I promise the next chapter will be here soon. I'm almost a thousand words in already...

**Please review! Scold me for my lateness, advise me on my grammar, chuck in a compliment if it please!**


	6. Chapter 6

I know, it is very hard to believe...one chapter within living memory of the previous one!

Wow!

Alright, I shall make this snappy.

Had a weekend without any studying, so I figured I'd actually enjoy myself for once and do some writing! Yay!

**Thank you so much for the reviews!**

**I love you guys as much as Edward loves his cloak (which is a lot, by the way)!**

**Merci!**

Alright, on with the story!

Please review!

**And Enjoy!**

* * *

"What madness is this?" Demanded another voice.

_The Sheriff..._I thought through the haze of pain. I felt hot blood on my hands.

"Your madness!" The whisperer was now loud, angry..._Edward?_ "This is the master you are loyal to!" He cried, "A woman-killer! Are you not ashamed?"

Doors crashed open, accompanied with the cries of men. "The Noble's Men have arrived!" Suddenly, noise broke loose all around. Guns fired. Metal clashed. Curses were yelled.

"Oh Isabella," came his voice through the thick of it. Arms slid underneath me and I was hoisted up. I shrieked and howled. The pain! Oh sweet God!

"Hush, sweet Isabella."

I heard my breath, so shallow. It did not feel right...I choked out more blood.

Suddenly footsteps were rushing at as. Edward dropped his arm from under my knees, holding me only around the waist. Sword met sword, and there was cry from the other man. Without another thought, I was back in his arms again, and we were running. My vision darkened, and I knew we were off the stage.

"Is she alright?" This voice was younger, and worried.

_Who would worry for me...I am just the girl from Norfolk...I do not matter...I am here...where is the house? Why isn't mother here? Father...he is home...why doesn't nanny warm the water? Faerie...and the knight...but..._

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

"She is to be my betrothed..."

"Why did you not stop her!"

"I didn't have a – "

"Get out of my way. Now!"

Suddenly, I felt cool night air around me, and we were running. Or he was running...or we were both running...in a meadow...

"Noble!" Came the shout from someone, then quieter as they got close .

"Noble, what is happening? Who is she?" There were two people...

"Fetch my horse. We need her get to Madame Corban's, quickly."

"It was an ambush," Edward said as one person departed.

_Ambush...yes it was. They said he had been there to confirm a business deal...but then they tortured him and killed him...and here is his fur coat...stained with blood..._blood. It poured from me like water from a jug...

"Christ, she's not going to make it," said his companion.

"Hush!" Edward commanded.

I felt myself being lowered, gently being placed on the ground. I felt his presence next to me.

_Just like I felt his presence when he whipped me...what was he meaning by brown eyes, anyway? Maybe I should ask him tomorrow...perhaps he won't be so angry then...but I was told not to pry...but why will he not tell me..._

His hands were on me, feeling my hot forehead, "She's in a fever. Have you any water?"

"Here."

Suddenly, something cool was poured upon me.

I gasped, regaining a little sanity. I could make out his blurry figure through the haze of pain.

"My Lord," I choked out, "I'm so sorry!" I tried to move, "Ah!"

"Isabella," he whispered, gently pushing me back down, "There is nothing to apologize – "

"The note," I wept. "It fell...they found it...it's all m-my fault!"

"No, Isabella," he said, stroking hair from my face. "Nothing was your fault."

"Ungh," I groaned, and vomited more blood up. Blood was...everywhere. I could see my nightdress, the innocent white now dyed a brilliant red.

"We need to stem the flow..." I heard the ripping of fabric, and a horrible pressure upon my ribs. I threw up again, though I did not know what came up this time.

"Noble! Here!"

Edward stood up. I heard the clip clop of hooves...

_And how they would be loud in my ears...the great beasts towering above me as he threw me into the stable when I had misbehaved...their stench, their snorts and neighing...so big...so scary...I must not talk back again...I must not laugh...I must not speak..._

"Ah!" I cried out as I was suddenly lifted.

"Hush, Isabella," said Edward, "Please, just for this moment. We cannot get caught, not with you like this...Jonah, help me..." With four hands on me, I was pushed onto the beast.

Edward held me there from the ground, "One of you take her, I must return to the Swan."

"My Lord, do not."

"I must. I will not have them fight for me if I am not among them."

"She needs you...and you will not be sane for a brawl if you are not with her."

"Howard is right," said someone else, "The battle is almost over, anyway. They know we have the upper hand. They will not stay long. Go with her."

"Tell them to retreat," he sighed. "There has been enough bloodshed. Meet me at Madame Corban's. I want regular reports."

He swung into the saddle behind me. The pressure returned to my ribs, and I moaned. My hood was pushed up. "Please, Isabella. Try to be silent. I need to get you there as quickly as possible...it will be painful...just..."

"I understand," I whispered.

We set off at a gallop.

It was pure agony, but I did not make a sound.

I just sunk into unconsciousness against Lord Edward's chest.

*T*L*

Reality and hallucinations became entwined. I felt myself being pulled from a horse even as I ran through the village, searching for the book merchant who had been rumoured to be passing through. I heard Lord Edward's shouts for help, and the scratch of my quill as I practised my lettering. The warm blood slithered over my arms and stomach as the cold water of Nanny's bath attacked me.

The only reality I could truly identify was the pain. Throughout everything, it was always there. I wanted to die...anything to rid myself of that pain...

In my next window of sanity, I found myself lain on a table, my top half naked, gasping in breaths which never reached my lungs. I saw the blurred figure of a woman in front of me.

"I will have to take it out, Noble," she sounded foreign. "Are you sure she can handle it?"

"Do it," I heard Edward say. I felt him take my hand. Something was pushed between my teeth, like a horse's bit.

Fingers pressed against my broken rib cage, and then I felt the cold metal...

I cried out in fear. My nails dug into Edward's hand.

"You are going to be fine, Isabella," he said softly to me.

I thought I may break his fingers as the metal thing pushed further into my side. _Just kill me...kill me, I do not want this pain! _But I could not seem to die.

"I have found it," the lady said calmly, then pulled the thing back out.

I let out a scream as new blood and pain flooded the wound.

"What now?" Asked Edward, still allowing me to grip his hand.

"Life or Death. All we may do is pray," she answered. The bit was removed from my mouth. "I to my God and you to yours."

*T*L*

Again, only glimpses came to me between my dreams. The warmth of Edward's hand...the sound of his voice...his presence...it seemed to be the only thing which tied me here now. I felt myself upon a crossroad, and it was only he who made me care about which way I took. His mystery was enough to keep me from the invisible pull of death. It felt like the pull which one has when one wishes to go to sleep...the guarantee of peace and rest. I felt as though I had been awake a thousand years and death looked so beautiful...

But those glimpses of Lord Edward were enough to keep me from it. However much I wanted peace...I wanted him more.

So time and pain wore on and on.

*T*L*

Light. Light burned into my eyes. I moaned. My darkness had become less stormy, more settled. Now it was being ruined by this flame..._flame...a flame...from a candle..._

Gradually, so gradually, my mind began to resurface. Thought returned to me. I tried to open my eyes. It was hard, as though my eyelids were made of lead. But I had to see now...

Eventually, they opened.

I saw the threads of a pillow, and the white sheet under it. What...what had happened? Where was I?

I looked further afield. A threadbare rug on the dusty floor. Wooden walls.

"My lady!" Came a whisper.

Someone's legs blocked my view. I blinked, managing to move my focus up to the person.

"Sebastian?" I whispered. My voice felt cracked and weak.

Sebastian knelt down in front of me and whispered a prayer, "Lord, I thank you." Then he opened his eyes and looked at me, "It is so good to see you awake again."

"Again?" I said.

He nodded, "You have many a time, crying and shouting out nonsense. A high fever, apparently. But you stopped yesterday and went totally silent. We could hardly feel a heartbeat. Madame Corban said you were leaving us. Lord Edward stormed out when she said." The boy smiled, "But it's okay because you're awake now."

"What day is it?" I asked. My mind was slowly filling in the dark areas. I remembered going to the theatre for a reason, and finding Master Jacob had followed me, and going to save Lord Edward. That had been at night...but it was night now. What did that mean?

"It is Wednesday night, my Lady. You were shot on Monday."

Shot...I'd been shot! Now I remembered..._I ran in front of Edward...because the Sheriff was going to kill him whilst he was in a fight..._

I moved to push back the covers, and immediately felt the pain. I let out a moan. "Good God..."

"My Lady, you probably shouldn't be moving..." Sebastian said hesitantly.

"Turn away for a moment," I said.

With a frown, he did so.

I pulled up the side of the night gown I'd been dressed in. Around my ribs, just beneath my breasts, was bound with bandages. Cautiously, I lifted them up. Under my right breast was a large, bloodied hole. "Oh Lord," I whispered, just before I vomited in the basin at my bedside.

"You should not be doing that, child," came a voice from the doorway. I looked over. Despite never meeting her before, I recognized the woman. She was dressed in colourful cloths, shimmering with little stones. Her head was adorned with a strange band, a single stone handing down to the middle of her brow. She was tall, and well-muscled, which was odd for a woman. Her skin was browned, and her dark hair thick and frizzy.

She, I realized, was the one who had taken the bullet from my wound. In the other glimpses I remembered, she had tended to me...

"Sebastian," she said. "Go and tell your master that I was mistaken in my diagnosis."

The boy stood up from the floor with a grin, "Yes, madam." And hurried out the door.

"Thank you," I said, pulling my night gown back down. "For your help."

She nodded, "You are welcome." In her hands she held a tray, and now she put it on the floor by my bed. "How do you feel?"

"In pain," I said. With every breath, there was a sharp stab in my ribs.

She nodded, propping me up with pillows so that I was sitting, "I believe the bullet grazed your lung, Miss Isabella. That would explain the blood you have been coughing up. You are very lucky to have survived so far."

"So far?" I repeated.

She sat herself on a stool and looked at me honestly, "There are many things still to go wrong. You still seem a little feverish, and I do not know how clean that bullet was."

I gulped, "You mean I could be infected?"

"Yes, child," she picked up the tray, "Which is why we must build your strength up."

I looked at it hesitantly, "I do not feel like – "

"But you must," she cut in, "Your body has seen neither food nor drink for two full days. It is very weak." She sat down on a stool and took the tray upon her lap.

"Are you a physician?" I asked as she fed me a spoonful of spiced broth. I felt like a child, but then I knew that my hands would not have the strength to hold even a feather.

She laughed, "Oh no, child. I am far above those dogs."

The hot broth slid down my throat, and I realized just how hungry I really was. "Where are you from?"

She shrugged, "Places. Many places."

"A gypsy?" I said.

The woman gazed at me a moment with her dark eyes, "Do you judge me for it?"

"No," I said immediately, though she was clearly, then, an outlaw, for the Queen had banished all gypsies from England many years ago. They were meant to be wild and dangerous. Not that this woman seemed like that... "Do you know what happened?" I asked, "After I was shot?"

The gypsy sighed and held a cup of wine to my lips. "The Noble's Men arrived soon after you fell, apparently."

"The Noble's Men?" I repeated, some more of my memory returning to me, "They fight for Ed – "

"For the Noble," she said swiftly, then gave me a sharp look, "Never say that name. It puts us all in danger."

"Noble?" I said. "Is that not rather obvious, though, if he is trying to disguise his identity?"

She shook her head, "The Noble Killer is his full title. But for those of us who know him, we can understand it three ways; he who kills nobles – that is what most people see him as; – He who isa noble himself; and then..."

"Then what?" I asked.

She gazed at me, "He who is a noble person. A noble killer."

"There is no such thing," I muttered.

The woman smiled at me, "He did say you were not informed."

"Then inform me!" I exclaimed.

She shook her head and stood. "The Noble will tell you in his own time. What he does is so very personal. He does not tell people lightly."

"Why not?" I whispered, "If it makes him a reputable man. If it makes him_ good?"_

The gypsy helped me lower back down until I was lying again. "Sometimes, what makes you good makes you vulnerable. The Noble has weaknesses like any other man."

"Weaknesses?" I repeated, eager for more information.

But she simply raised her eyebrow and pulled the covers up. "Sleep, child," she said, "And worry not of such things. Now you must heal."

"Are the men alright?" I asked finally, "Those who fought?"

The woman nodded, "There were only two casualties, and a few more wounded."

I shut my eyes, "It was my fault..."

"Just sleep, child."

*T*L*

"_How is she?" _

_Edward? _I thought through the last moments of a dream.

"_She is weak, but her mind is strong." _Madame Corban...

"_Will she live?"_

"_If the wound is kept from infection, she should."_

"_Thank the Lord."_ There was a creak of floorboards, and then I felt him kneel at my side. I felt lips brush my forehead, _"Thank the Lord."_

"_She will wake soon, if you wish to speak with her."_

"_No, let her rest. I have business. Can she stay here until she is healed?"_

"_Of course. But what of her family?"_

"_I have told her place of residence. She has leave for as long as you deem fit."_

"_She has much to recover from, Noble."_

"_Care for her."_

"_You know I will."_

A door shut, and finally I opened my eyes. _He does not wish to speak with me..._what could that mean but that he was angry?

Too tired to think of it, I took a painful breath and slipped back into a deep sleep.

*T*L*

Days passed. Sebastian took it upon himself to entertain me whilst I wasn't sleeping, and I was very grateful. The lad had a wicked sense of humour and was an excellent storyteller. His father's job was to be a watchman, however he was apparently literate, and wrote controversial pamphlets about parliament and the queen. Sebastian seemed to be following in his father's footsteps – he was a messenger, but spent much time collecting and spreading rumours about court.

Consequently, he had many tales of deception and excitement.

"One time," he told me as I sat up in bed on Friday. "The Queen had been having really bad toothache, and all the court was getting so sick of her always going on about it, but she wouldn't have it taken out because she was afraid it would hurt."

"That it would _hurt?" _I said, smiling, "Perhaps she should try getting shot..."

We both grinned. It didn't occur to me that I was speaking a kind of treason, but then Sebastian made the Queen sound like any other woman.

"Anyway," he said, "Eventually the Archbishop had to get his own one pulled out to prove to her that it was safe."

"And then she got it out?"

He shook his head, "No, it took about half his mouth before she did it."

"No!" I exclaimed, chuckling. But that, like everything else, hurt. My laughs turned to a moan, and I put my hand to my wound as the coughing started. As was routine, Sebastian handed me a handkerchief and helped me to lie back down. "Oh dear," I muttered. "You're getting far too good at this nursing job, Sebastian. Do you not have other things you'd rather be doing?"

"I don't think the Noble would be very happy if I betrayed his orders to care for you," he said. "Besides, this is good fun."

"Does he always order everyone around?" I asked.

Sebastian grinned, "Of course. It's what he's good at."

I turned my head to look at him, "Why does everyone listen to him, though?"

He gave me an odd look, "Because..." he blinked and looked away, "I was told not to say anything."

"Oh please!" I said childishly, pushing myself up onto my elbows. The movement was too much, and I began coughing again.

Sighing, Sebastian grabbed the handkerchief again. "I suppose I could show you one thing without getting in trouble. After all, it's not that bad..."

"Thank – you!" I said between coughs, then looked at him, "What is it?"

He raised an eyebrow, "I think you'll have to be able to get out of bed first."

It became my goal, then, to try and build the strength to stand.

Madame Corban and Sebastian would both help me out of bed, putting my arms over their shoulders. I found that, with their support, I could walk across the room and back before collapsing. My legs felt so weak. As if they were as thin as twigs.

Madame Corban continued to fill me with broth, telling me I'd lost far too much weight. I began to learn much about her character. She was intelligent, very intelligent, it seemed, for she sat with me sometimes with a book of some sort and performed difficult equations, working out how much of one herb to drop into her various bottles. I learnt that she ran a herbal medicine shop downstairs. No wonder it was in Southwark, for it was an illegal thing indeed for her to be a gypsy and selling 'occult' potions. But I trusted her with my life, which, apparently, was very delicate.

That was another of her attributes; she was always honest. She never slighted the truth of how likely my death was. She told me of how my 'immune' system was weak, and how I was susceptible to many diseases at the moment. But with her honesty, there was also hope. She told me when I was improving, and when I was worsening. It seemed, for the most part, that I was the former rather than the latter.

But whilst I got to know Madame Corban and Sebastian, Edward never returned to the house.

When I woke in the night, unable to take more than a couple of hours of sleep now without waking in pain, I thought of him. I wondered where he was...and I wondered what he thought of me.

And so when Sebastian knocked on the door on Saturday afternoon and told me I had a visitor, my hopes soared.

But it was not Lord Edward who entered the room, but Lord Carlisle.

I gasped and tried to get up.

With a raise of a hand, he stopped me, "Please, Miss Swan."

Within the sanctuary of this room, I had almost forgotten about what Lord Carlisle had said the night I had been shot. And now he was just as intimidating. He stood there in his Sunday best; a deep green jerkin with emeralds set into the fabric, then a sleeveless fur lined robe, black breeches and a black beret. He looked like fortune himself.

"My Lord," I whispered, bowing my head as best I could. "Forgive me, I cannot..."

He nodded, "I know," He looked at me, noting, I'm sure, my pallid face and dry lips and shadowed eyes. He frowned and sat down by my bedside, "How are you?"

"I am well, thank you." I was aware of just how much danger I was in – he had warned me that if I exposed Edward in any way then he would ruin my life...

...and that was exactly what I had done.

He raised his eyebrow, "Miss Swan, you need not use pleasantries with me."

I said nothing, feeling helpless.

Unexpectedly, Lord Carlisle reached out and took my pale hand. My heart jolted with the contact.

"Isabella," he said quietly, gently squeezing my fingers, "I came to apologize."

"There is no need – "

"There is," he said, looking me honestly in the eye, "I threatened you and then you went out and almost killed yourself trying to save Edward."

"It was my fault in the first place," I said.

Lord Carlisle sighed, taking his hand away, "I believe that nothing should ever be paid back for by death, Miss Swan. No crime, no mistake, no discrepancy should be returned with death."

If I had not been so intimidated, I would have laughed, "My lord...how can you believe that when Edward..." I glanced at him.

He shook his head, "Because I also know that each person has a set of different beliefs. That is not the point, Miss Swan," he gave me a long gaze; "You sacrificed yourself for him because of a mistake you made. That was unnecessary."

Feeling bolder than I should have, I told him, "You would not be saying such things if he had died."

His eye twinkled, "Perhaps not...but I would like to think that I would understand, even in my mourning. But Isabella, what I mean is that you went above what anyone could have asked of you...and you are now in this situation," he gestured to my pathetic form, "Because of that."

I eyed him nervously.

"And so," he said, leaning forward, "I am in your debt, Miss Swan."

I froze. "My Lord, your kindness in taking me into your home is payment enough..."

"No," he said firmly, "That was in payment to your mother. This is to you. I will give you anything in my power."

"I..." One of the most powerful men in the country, if not _the _most powerful, was giving me his promise. I was not worthy...and I did not know how on earth I would use such a debt...

_Except for one thing, _I realized. I looked at Lord Carlisle, he who held answers to questions which had been plaguing me since my very birth.

"My mother," I whispered.

Lord Carlisle shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I feared you would say that."

"Please, my Lord," I said quietly, my hands clutching the white sheets. "You are the only person apart from my father who knows anything about her."

He studied me, as if searching for something, "I will tell you some, Isabella. But there are certain things about Elizabeth which I don't believe you are ready to hear yet."

"Elizabeth?" I breathed, "That was her name?"

Lord Carlisle frowned, "Your father really didn't tell you anything?"

I bit my lip, then quickly released it, remembering his instruction when I'd first arrived at his house. "Only that she had brown eyes."

His lordship gave an involuntary smile, "She did indeed. Your mother was very beautiful."

Some part of me glowed, feeling happy. There had not been much beauty in my life, physical or otherwise. "What did she look like?" I asked.

"She was very slight," he said, "Much like you. But taller. Long brown hair, a serious face, and very pale."

"What was her job?" I asked, "How did she meet my father?"

"She was a scullery maid," he said, glancing down, "But she had difficulty finding work in London. I do not know how she found your father." He grimaced, "I only know that she left London alone without a travel license and without any clue of where she was going."

"That's dangerous," I murmured. Travelling without a license was illegal...and travelling alone as a woman. That was suicide. "Why did she leave?"

Lord Carlisle stared out the dusty window, "She met great misfortune in London. She was escaping it."

"Escaping it so she could conceive with a bastard," I said coldly, staring at the threads of my pillow.

His lordship looked away distastefully, "I confess, Isabella, that I was not wholly content with the match, either."

"What was a scullery maid to you?" I said quietly. Remembering my place, I added, "My Lord?"

"A woman who was lost and sick," he told me softly. With a sigh, he stood up. "I must be going, Miss Swan. There is much to do."

"Is my absence a burden?" I asked, trying to sit myself up.

"No, Miss Swan," he said. "Alice has asked, but I have told them all that you had to return to your old home on some unfinished business."

I nodded, but then realized a larger problem, "What of Master Black?"

Lord Carlisle pulled on his cloak, "Edward informed me of his presence during the incident."

"It was not his fault," I said, "He was rightfully wondering where I was going."

His lordship nodded, "I told him what I told my family. He does not believe it, of course, but neither does he think I know anything about it. He is searching for the Noble."

"And is _he_ safe?" I prayed that the desperation did not show in my voice.

"Yes," said Lord Carlisle. "I will instruct you on what to say to Master Black upon your return. We shall think of some story."

As so often happened now, a wave of tiredness hit me, and I slipped back down into my bed, "I am sorry," I said. "To have brought so much trouble into your house, my Lord."

From the door, he raised his head to look at me, "Just focus on your recovery, Isabella."

*T*L*

That night, when I woke, I thought I heard the door closing. Chasing back through the remains of my dream, I remembered the lightest touch of lips upon my forehead.

With a sigh, I braved the pain and reached for the tankard of mead upon my bedside table.

Nursing it in my hands, I began to think. My mother was a scullery maid. The lowest job in a household...but at least it was a job. But then, if what his lordship had said was true, she hadn't found any households to work in anyway. My mother had been impoverished...but how had she gotten to marry my father? He would not have married her simply for the joy of it. Lord Carlisle, as he had warned, had clearly not told me the whole truth.

* * *

Gypsies were considered very bad people in the Elizabethan Era. Their persecution has lasted right through history.

In the Renaissance, they were hung, branded, shaved and tortured simply for existing.

**A peaceful chapter for once :D**

**Please send me a review!**

**I'll get onto Chapter Seven and hopefully _(hopefully)_ have it within the week!**


	7. Chapter 7

Hello from the cold fields of England!

Yes, a couple of weeks ago I left nice, warm, small New Zealand and spent two days cramped on a plane heading towards dear old Britain.

:D Sorry to my fellow Kiwis and Aussies from across the ditch, but a cold (but not white, apparently) Christmas is really very nice!

Mulled wine, overcrowding of relatives and watching cheesy British seasonal movies is the way Christmas is meant to be :D

However, I also went to Prague and Poland last week, and they were both absolutely beautiful!

Haven't been able to have an overseas Christmas since I finished being mini, so this has just been awesome!

Anyways, enough blather.

**Thank you so much to all of you!**

**And to all who sent me a review! Double thanks! You're awesome!**

**Please keep them coming!**

I do have to mention one particular review which really brought me some Christmas cheer:

_"OK, Bella is partially redeemed for allowing the set up. It wouldn't have  
happened if she would have been honest about the note; there are worse things  
than Edward's hands in your stocking..."_

Thank you very much, Medward. Hehehe...

Right!

**Please review!**

**And Enjoy!**

* * *

"'_parrently he didn't know what hit 'im."_

Drowsily, I shifted in my bed. I bit my lip hard as my wound stabbed with pain. My eyes flickered open. It was dark outside...

"_Serves him right I reckon." _Came a voice through the door. _Sebastian?_ Glancing around, I realized that the boy wasn't by my bed, as he almost always was. _"Was he really just getting out of the bath?"_

Someone, the other boy, sniggered, _"Aye, the rich bastard. Probably 'as one of them every week."_

With a sense of dread, I silently slipped my thick set of blankets and sheets back, and stood.

"_Do the public suspect anything?"_

"_Course not," _laughed the other one. _"And the Sheriff's keepin' quiet 'bout it. Doesn't want the world to know 'is clerk got murdered by the Noble he's supposed to have dealt with."_

Murdered. _Murdered by the Noble..._it shouldn't have shocked me so much – I knew Edward was a murderer, a heartless killer – and yet my heart froze in its place. Somehow...somehow my fevered mind had painted a different picture of Lord Edward. The way he had stood as one man against all those soldiers. The way he had taken me in his arms...gripped my hand and hushed me as the bullet was taken out. His lips upon my forehead...

But why, no matter what those actions meant, should they have made me believe he was suddenly not a murderer? Or that he would stop simply because I, some foolish girl, had taken a bullet for him. No, Edward was a murderer. _And all these people, _I thought, thinking of the Noble's men and Sebastian and Miranda and Madame Corban, _all these people are his accomplices. They do not care that he kills people. And not only that..._I heard the two boys snickering outside. _They endorse it. They _want _him to kill._

Sickness roiled in my stomach, and suddenly I was out of the door, ignoring the sharp pain of my wound.

Sebastian leapt back, "My lady!" He exclaimed, "What are you doing out – "

I paused to glare at him and his friend, "He is a murderer! You're all murderers!" I spat, and pushed past them, charging down the cramped staircase. I had to get out. I had to leave this dark place! These killers!

"My lady!" Sebastian was following me.

I ignored him, rounding the corner of the stairs. I appeared in a dark, but surprisingly polished corridor. I could hear many voices and movements coming from somewhere further down. Fearing them, I turned to my left. There, not so far down. A door! Escape!

I rushed toward it, though my burst of strength was already failing me. I had almost reached it when it burst open.

"Madame Corban!" A woman clutching a baby in one arm and a sickly-looking toddler in the other rushed in. Two more children scurried along behind her. All looked dirty and thin beyond belief. "Thank God," the woman gasped as she saw me there, and thrust the baby into my arms. I stared, open mouthed, as she continued down the corridor. "Madame Corban!"

Madame Corban came into the corridor from one of the far off rooms.

"What is it, child?" She said calmly.

"Cora," the woman said hysterically, taking the toddler from her shoulder. "She started burning up again last night, and she won't speak and I just don't know what to do and last time you helped and – "

"It is alright, my dear," said Madame Corban, taking the child from the woman's arms. "Hello, Miss Cora?" She said gently. The child didn't respond. Madame Corban simply gave the woman a small smile, "I will see what I can do."

"Oh thank you, thank God!" She exclaimed and followed Madame Corban into a room, the two children still behind her. The door shut.

Blinking in shock, I looked down at the babe in my arms. It stared up at me with big, questioning eyes, as if it expected me to know what I was doing.

"My lady?" Sebastian's tentative voice came from behind me.

I felt a blanket being put over my tense shoulders. I was transfixed on the child. It was a warm, almost welcome weight in my weak arms. "What are you doing here?" I whispered to it. "With these bad people?" But it did not look scared. It did not even cry, as I had been told babies always did.

I glanced at the front door, which hung wide open onto a dark, dirty street. Madame Corban had told me we were somewhere in Southwark, though she refused to tell me where. Cold night air blew through, making me shiver.

"Please, my lady," said Sebastian, coming round beside me. "You should get back into bed. You are ill."

He held out his arms to take the baby. "No," I said quietly, cradling it closer to my chest, even though it hurt. It lifted a tiny little hand, making a little gurgling sound. I smiled despite myself, then looked to Sebastian, who watched me nervously. "Why is that woman here?" I demanded. "And where is her husband? A nanny? She has far too many children to care for alone..."

Sebastian gave me a look I did not understand. It was almost amused.

I narrowed my eyes, "What is it? Why will you not answer me?"

He blinked incredulously, "She hasn't the money to hire a nanny. And her husband has either left her or he's working."

"But why is she here?" _In the company of murderers._ "Why is this babe here?"

"Will you let me show you?" Sebastian asked.

Looking at him, I knew I should not let myself any further into this wrong world which I seemed to have become a part of. I had taken the hospitality and company of these criminals for too long...but the child in my arms continued to look at me. _If something so innocent is at peace here..._

"Show me," I said quietly.

With a nod, Sebastian quickly went and shut the door, and then helped me along the corridor. The child gurgled again as we moved, kicking a little. I grunted as it nudged my ribs. "My lady," said Sebastian. "Let me take the – "

"No," I repeated. It felt strange, being so cruel to Sebastian when he had been my companion these past few days. _He has cared for me and made me laugh and fed me..._but I thought no more, for my mind was already so very confused. _Murderers, _I reminded myself, _they are murderers... _"This child is the only thing keeping me here."

He nodded uneasily. We reached a set of double doors near the end of the corridor, past the door Madame Corban and the mother had gone through. Much noise and talking came from inside.

"My lady," Sebastian said as he touched the door handles. "The Noble told us not to show you this because he worries that you will tell others...you must understand that if you do tell – "

"If I do tell I will be killed?" I cut in coldly. "I know how he works, how you _all _work, Sebastian."

The boy looked at me mildly, finally showing his contempt, "I was going to say that you would put innocent lives at risk..." he nodded in concession, "But yes, knowing my lord's temper, your own life as well."

I was glad at the curtness in his tone – it made it easier to hate him.

"So please," he continued. "Do not speak of what you see here."

"That depends," I said. "On what I see."

He looked at me first with anger, then with desperation, then shook his head and opened the doors.

The room was a great one – surely far too big for a house of Southwark – with massive wooden rafters and pillars. There were no windows, but a fire roared in a massive hearth at one end of the room, and more candles kept the room in a bright light. Which was just as well, for the hall bustled with activity. People sat at long tables on the far side, laughing and talking. Others sat on chairs and cushions, and a few children lay on pallets around the roaring fire, sleeping, though more ran and played around the adults' legs. Women sat talking and sewing, whilst maids and footmen flitted around, serving food and cleaning.

Perhaps I would have been able to pass the scene in front of me off as the drawing room of a very large, lively noble family. But these people's clothes were ragged and tattered, their faces thin. The children, though seemingly happy, were scrawny. The voices I could hear were uncultured and unmediated. And the very way they held themselves...these people did not have the stance of those who knew their lives were going to be one easy journey from one banquet to the next.

No, these people looked tired and worn; the postures of people who had to work...who had to worry.

_They are commoners, _I thought, not understanding what I was seeing.

The more I looked, the more confused I became. At least two of the women were prostitutes, their dresses scanty, though they sat modestly with other women, talking. Another man had a deformed face, and a few of the other men were cripples as well. One young girl sat in the darkest corner, her belly swollen with pregnancy. As I watched, a maid bent down to hand her a steaming bowl. I realized it was the same broth which I had been eating since my arrival. But this girl took it with the desperation of someone who not eaten for weeks. The maid patted her on the shoulder and moved on to her next task – propping a cushion up for a man who had only one leg.

Suddenly, I felt a tug on the fabric of my nightgown. I looked down to see the two other little children of the mother. "Miss," the boy said. "Do you want us to take our brother away now?"

I frowned and looked at the baby, who still gazed up at me expectantly. "What is his name?" I asked.

"Peter," the boy said again. The little girl just stared up at me with big eyes; in fear or in awe, I wasn't really sure. "Sorry 'bout mummy. She gets funny when Cora goes all pale."

"Well she is worried for her," I explained. "Do you...do you come here often?"

The little girl smiled, showing me a wide gap where her baby teeth had yet to grow. I felt my heart warm.

"When Cora's sick," said the brother, tugging my gown again so I would look at him. "Or if father can't get us any food."

"They give you it here?" I said.

"Lots!" He said. "So long as there's not too many people."

"But what does your mother have to give in return?" I asked. There had to be something. Something which would make this less of a contradiction – murderers who...who helped people? There had to be a payment. A payment which was terrible and cruel...

"Shhh," whispered the little girl, bringing a finger to her lips.

I frowned, looking around, wondering what she meant.

The boy tugged on my skirts again. "She _means,"_ he said with an eye roll. "That mummy says that as long as we never tell anyone about his house, we'll always have plenty of food."

"Whose house?" I said, though I hardly needed to.

"Oble's," said the little girl, now sucking her thumb.

The boy huffed bossily, "I told you, Violet, it's _'Noble' _not _'Oble'._" He looked back up at me, "Sorry, miss."

I could not help but smile again, looking at the girl. "It's alright," I said gently. "When I was a little girl, I used to say 'twee' instead of 'tree'. I mixed up all my w's and r's. My father used to get very annoyed at me." _So much he used to hit me, _I added in thought. Not that they needed to hear that...

"Tree," she said proudly, her dimples showing.

"Very good," I laughed. The baby – Peter, I remembered – wriggled in my arms again, jostling my ribs. I bit my lip hard against the pain.

"Miss Isabella's not very well," said Sebastian, kneeling down next to the children. "Do you think you could give her a moment to sit?"

"Miss Isabella?" a woman sitting on a seat nearby repeated sharply. More of them turned to look at me. The first woman's eyes lit up. "You don't mean the Noble's Lady?"

"I beg your pardon?" I said confusedly.

"It's 'er," said another woman, her needle frozen halfway through an old shirt.

"My lady!" breathed another, pressing a hand to the cross at her throat. Suddenly, she stood and bobbed a curtsy, then reached forward and patted me on the shoulder. "Thank you," she sniffed. "Thank you so much."

"God bless," said another as she came forward, giving me a hug. I winced at the pressure, and she jumped back. "Oh I'm so sorry! You must be in a whole lot of pain, with what happened!"

The whole room had now stopped and everyone stared at me, as if I were a miracle. I clutched the babe a little tighter in my arms.

One of the men, who looked as ragged as the clothes he stood in, raised a tankard. "Three cheers for the Noble's Lady!"

In the loud shouts that ensued, I looked to Sebastian in total mortification. "I do not understand..."

"You saved the Noble's life. That is no small favour to us." He said, gently leading me to a chair. Two of the women quickly plumped the cushion and shifted it a little closer to the fire. I swallowed; I did not deserve such treatment. Still, Sebastian helped me to sit. Peter still lay in my arms, fidgety after all the noise.

"Oh, that was such a brave thing you did, Miss!" said one giddy lady, dropping into a chair next to mine. "I almost cried hearing what happened!"

"My 'usband, Roy, 'e said most men wouldn't 'ave 'ad the strength to survive that!" another woman said, putting her hand over my own. "Said you were as strong as a warrior!"

"How'd you do it?" Whispered another, younger girl, propping her head on the arm of the chair.

"Get shot?" I spluttered in surprise. "Well it was quite simple, really..."

The women laughed, though I hadn't known it was a joke – my mind seemed to have deserted me in all this.

"Oh she's got that dry sense of humour, just like he's got!" exclaimed the first lady.

"Oh," sighed the younger girl. "So romantic!"

I looked at Sebastian again, but he simply watched on, increasingly amused, returning to the cheeky boy I knew so well.

"How do you even know this place?" asked another woman.

"Yeah!" Exclaimed the young one. "Where'd you two meet?"

"Ladies," said Sebastian, his voice suddenly sharp. "You know not to ask such questions. For the good of us all. My lady is very tired from her injury; perhaps some space?"

"Of course," said one of the older women, and quickly shepherded the others back to their sewing.

I breathed out a sigh of relief, and looked to Sebastian. "They do not even know me," I said.

He shrugged, "They do not need to; you saved our master's life, that's what matters."

"And 'the Noble's Lady'?"

Sebastian smirked, "Surely you can work that one out? We all like a good dose of romance now and again. Particularly the girls."

Blushing, I decided to change question. "But why do they all care that a murderer should live?" I asked, remembering the reason why I was out of my bed in the first place.

"You know why," he replied. "Look about you, my Lady – these people are not just commoners; they are the lowest of the low. Prostitutes, cripples, vagrants, sick people, beggars, illegal immigrants, gypsies, petty criminals." His eyes looked wiser now, older, as he looked across the room. "They have nothing. They are shunned by anyone who could help them. Some have licenses to beg, but what do they count for when no one can be bothered giving? But the _Noble," _he gave a slight smile. "He has given them all this," Sebastian gestured to the room. "Food, temporary shelter, jobs. The maids and footmen are all youngsters from the streets – Lord Edward trains them here and then writes them references to go into proper households."

"But that's an entire class up from them," I said in awe, not scorn. Changing social class was rare when one was so low down. Like trying to climb up a smooth cliff face.

"Aye," Sebastian grinned, clearly glad I was not against this. At least, I didn't _think _I was... "And he's got someone teaching the littler ones how to read and write, so that they'll be even further up."

"The nobles must not like this," I said quietly. "My father was not so high up, but even he wished to keep the poor in their place. Improvement makes them insecure."

He nodded, "They do like to be in a minority. But the nobles do not know of this, my lady." He eyed me meaningfully.

I shifted the babe in my arms, who was now asleep, his soft little eyelids shut to the world.

"I will not tell," I said carefully. "This is a goodthing."

"And it is Lord Edward who has done all of it, my lady," said Sebastian.

I glanced down, not knowing what to think. He killed people. He saved people. They did not, in my mind, cancel each other out. One life taken and one life saved did not make the former _right. _But neither could the latter be ignored. _Who is he? Why does he do these things – two things which are total opposites? Contradictions of his personality..._

"It is as if he is two people," I said softly.

"He is just one man, my lady," said Sebastian.

I nodded, knowing Sebastian could not give me the answers I needed.

But then he hesitated, "He killed the clerk tonight because he had seen _you, _my lady. You gave the note to him, and so he knows what you look like normally, before all the blood and the shift. He could have identified you and had you arrested in the blink of an eye. Then," he continued, "You would have been tortured until you gave up the Noble's identity and his hiding place. And all these people would have been found and hanged."

We lapsed into silence. _He is right...but still, how many men will have to be killed to keep this place a secret? But then how many people would be killed if this secret was found out?_

My mind once again went into circles as I stared into the fire.

Suddenly there was a desperate shout."Where is the Noble?" A thin old man stood in the doorway, looking bedraggled, his face dirty and his clothes as ragged as the rest of them. His eyes were wide with anxiety. "Sebastian!" He said, spotting him. Everyone had turned to listen. "Where is he?"

"I cannot say," Sebastian replied. _It is late evening, _I thought; _he will be at the Cullen Mansion, eating dinner and pretending to be the rich nobleman which he...is and is not. _"What is it?"

"Another kidnapping!"

There were gasps from the ladies. A few of the men stood up. Sebastian frowned, glancing around a little nervously at the tension. He got up and walked closer to the man. "Another one?" Sebastian said quietly. I, like everyone else, seemed to be leaning forward, trying to glean the words.

"Aye," the man said in a much louder voice. He seemed to be almost on the verge of weeping. "My – " he gulped. "My sons."

"Oh lord," whispered one of the women.

"All three of 'em!" he exclaimed. "Gone! All in my sight one second, and then I turned away to fetch something and they were gone."

"They could have run away," said Sebastian.

The man shook his head, "No. They took nothing – not even the old pot sweet Jane gave them in 'er will...and – " he coughed down another sob. "And there was a bit o' blood on the wall."

"Wait here," said Sebastian. "I will fetch him."

Quickly, Sebastian had donned a black cloak – smaller and more tattered than Edward's great cloth – and was at my side. "Do not speak to anyone of my Lord's identity, please; for all our sakes."

"I will not," I said softly, then touched his hand. "God bless."

He rushed out the door without another word.

The room burst into noise – the women upset, the men angry. In all of it, I noticed, the man who had lost his three sons stood alone, staring blankly at the floor.

A bolt of sympathy ran through me. Quietly, I stood. Little Peter blinked his eyes open. "Forgive me, little one," I whispered, then tapped one of the women on the shoulder. "Could you take him for me?" I asked. "I believe his mother is with Madame Corban."

"Of course, my lady," she said, putting down her patchwork and taking the child.

I smiled in thanks and moved toward the man, aware of that group of women's eyes on me. "Excuse me, good sir?" I said softly.

His eyes flicked to mine once, then darted back to the floor.

"It is alright," I said uncertainly, not sure what to do for him. He had just lost his three sons – what could he be wishing for but their safe return? I glanced at his hands. They were shaking ever so slightly. "Come," I said. "Sit." Gently I led him to my chair by the fire. He stiffly sat down on it. I could see now that he was shaking everywhere.

I took the blanket from my shoulders. I knew it was indecent, standing here in my nightgown in a room full of grown men, but I did not find myself caring – it was not the same situation as Lord Carlisle's great hall, or even my father's house. There were higher priorities here. I wrapped the blanket around the man's shoulders. "Do not give up hope," I said quietly, carefully kneeling beside him – I could not stand for long.

"No one 'as ever been seen again," the man whispered. "I – I've lost them..."

"No, no you do not know that." I did not have any inkling as to what he was talking about, but I continued blindly all the same. "I'm sure the Noble will help you."

"Of course 'e will," said the maid who had been stoking the fire. "'e always tries; he's just never managed to find anyone."

"How many of these have there been?" I asked her quietly, trying not to upset the man.

But he heard; "Hundreds and no one ever returns..." he brought his shaking fingers to his mouth. "My boys..."

The maid looked at me, "There's no point giving 'im hope, Miss; this 'appens every week. Some more people snatched off the streets and never seen again. It's been going on for years."

"_Years?" _I whispered.

"Aye," she said, "Started off with just a couple a month, but now it's gotten bad."

I wanted to ask more, but I knew the man shouldn't be hearing such things. And so we settled into silence.

*T*L*

The night wore on. I did not know what time it was, but I felt myself lose energy. I felt frail – as if I were twenty years older. The man said little, but I managed to give him some broth. After a while, the other ladies settled around us on the floor, quietly talking and gossiping with their sewing in hand.

"You're so good to 'im," said the same younger one as before, patting my hand.

I smiled, "It is the least I can do."

The girl shrugged, "'smore than I'd ever 'ave done."

It was then that the doors at the end of the room opened. Edward entered, his sword in its sheath, his black cloak on his shoulders.

Everyone – even the children – sunk into bows and curtsies.

But his eyes were only on me.

I rose slowly, cautiously, feeling the fear I always felt around him. But there was more than that now. A fragile connection which I could not put my finger on. The knowledge we both had of his lips upon my forehead – of my taking the bullet for him. He glanced at my company – the common girls and the old man – and then looked directly into my eyes. I could not see a message there. All I could see was the slight rise and fall of his chest. And I could feel a similar one in my own, as if this...this moment...took as much energy from us as a day. As if there was something strong between us. But I only knew parts of what it was – fear, guilt, relief, surprise. There were other things, but they had yet to be unveiled...

Slowly, Edward seemed to come alert once more to the room. He cleared his throat, looking away from me. "Sebastian," he ordered. My friend hurried out from behind him. The room returned to its former buzz of talking and activity.

I swallowed and looked away, back down to the old man. He was already trying to stand. I took a shivery breath against the emotions raging in me and helped him up. But of course he wished to go directly to Edward.

Staring decidedly at the floor, I helped the man across the room to where Lord Edward stood talking to Sebastian. I caught a single snippet of what Sebastian was saying.

"There was no choice – she was already – "

"Noble," said the old man. "They've taken my sons – all of them."

Edward spared me a single glance then blinked and turned to the man. "I have heard, my friend," he said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I will do what I can, Geoffrey. But you must understand that they could be miles away by now, beyond the city's outer reaches."

The old man began shaking again. I patted his arm. "But Michael's only thirteen," he said, frantically looking between me and Edward. "And Tyler and Eric, they're barely men yet..."

"I know," Edward replied. "And I know Jane would not have wanted this..." he hesitated, looking down, almost in shame. "I promise you that we will find a way to compensate for the labour lost."

"I don't want money," the man said miserably. "I just want my boys back."

I saw the pain in Edward's eyes, "I can only try." With a deep breath, he turned to Sebastian. "We'll go to the house first – and try to track them from there. Send messengers to the watchers on the outskirts; make sure they look for a carriage or a cart with anything suspicious about it." He shook his head. I knew why – even to me, it sounded unlikely that anything would be found this late. Sebastian went off, and Edward gestured for one of the maids. She came to us straight away, curtsying clumsily. "Show Master Geoffrey to one of the rooms please, Jesse," he said, looking at the man, "I do not think you are in any shape to be home alone tonight."

Taking his arm, the maid helped him out one of the doors, leaving us alone.

Cautiously – always cautiously – I looked at Edward, not sure what was to be said.

But his face was blank, "You are injured, Miss Swan," he said quietly, not quite looking at me. "Go and sleep."

And with that, he turned and left, his black cloak billowing out behind him.

* * *

In Elizabethan times Christmas Pudding was made using the stomach of a boar :D Remember that this Sunday!

Alright, I'm on holiday and I've got a very dramatic chapter planned, so I will try my best to get it to you ASAP!

**Have a very merry Christmas wherever you are in the World!**

**Review as a Christmas pressie? :D It's free, you know!**


	8. Chapter 8

Hello!

Well...it's been a while.

Myriad of reasons for the wait, which I am so sorry for, but the key one has just been incredibly bad writer's block.

Two chapters have been sitting on my computer since Christmas but I haven't been able to upload them because I have been very stuck.

However, last night I sat down and after two cups of tea, three sheets of paper, a lot of doodling, a family tree and a video of the Olympic Japanese Synchronized Swimming team, I have solved my problem!

Huzzah!

**Thank you so much for all your reviews and comments!**

**I am so sorry I haven't updated quicker for you all - it's unfair.**

**But still, thank you! You've inspired me to keep it going :D**

So, here you go, at long last. Chapter Eight.

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**And Enjoy!**

* * *

_I found myself standing outside. It was dark, and I was dressed only in my shift. A freezing wind blew the thin fabric around me. I shivered, not understanding where I was, but then, like in all dreams, I did not worry about my location, or that I was dressed so scantily, or that Lord Edward was suddenly there behind me, his hands slipping around my waist, his lips on my neck. He pulled me tight against him. I gasped. But it was not of fear...it was of ecstasy. His fingers circled my corset lazily as his lips continued to taunt me, ghosting behind my ear, then down to my collarbone. My head fell back against his shoulder, and I could feel the warm pulse of his neck._

"_Isabella," he breathed in my ear. I felt cold metal in my palm. Looking down, I saw Edward's hand over mine. Together, we clutched a long, shining dagger._

_Suddenly, we were not in the darkness, but in a well-lit room. People in rich clothing danced around us, oblivious to our position. We still held the dagger. "You know what to do," Edward whispered._

_And then Lord Carlisle was in front of us, his arm around Lady Esme. He spoke, but I did not hear any words. Easily, I raised the dagger and plunged it into his chest._

"_Isabella!" came a cry. I spun around to see Edward on the other side of the room, holding the hands of little boy and girl from Madame Corban's house. His face was distraught and angry. "What have you done?"_

_I looked to the blood on my hands and shift, then down at the dead body. "But he is a noble," I said innocently. "You are the Noble Killer."_

"_Not this noble!" the voice was Lady Alice's. She wept over her father's dead body._

_I looked from the body to the dagger to Edward. "I do not understand..."_

_But he just stood, all the poor people he had ever helped now around him, and shook his head._

"_No!" I cried._

I shot up in bed, a sickening pain in my ribs. Hair stuck to my forehead with sweat, and my bed clothes were twisted around me. "Oh Lord," I whispered, breathing heavily. _It was just a dream..._but I had killed Lord Carlisle! Put a dagger through his heart. _But Edward gave me that dagger..._but it was not for Lord Carlisle.

"_Not this noble!" _Alice had shouted.

I gulped. I had killed Alice's father. Edward's uncle. Lady Esme's husband. My mother's friend. Because I thought that it was what Edward wanted. _But it's not. He is not senselessly murdering every noble he sees..._

Keeping a hand over my wound, I untangled myself from my sheets. The dream was just an echo of what I had been thinking all night; that Edward had a reason for these murders. _But this dream does not give me any answers, _I thought dolefully. I sighed, knowing I would not get back to sleep again. Bracing myself for the pain, I stood, picked up my candle in its holder and slipped out my door. I seemed to be becoming accustomed to walking around in nothing but a nightgown.

Like a woman thrice my age, I eased myself down the stairs and into the corridor. All was quiet and dark now. From what I had been told by some of the women, most of the families had places to sleep – Edward had made sure to find them homes – but those who were still not earning enough to live anywhere but the streets slept here in the house. I did not know where, though.

Silently, I walked down the corridor. My candle shone a warm light over the walls. They were not papered, like Lord Carlisle's, nor were the brackets gilded with gold. It was a large house, but not one of someone who was extravagantly rich.

_Well, one who was extravagantly rich would never buy a house in Southwark in the first place...and so it is odd that this is Lord Edward's house, when he clearly has far more money than this house is worth..._

But how expensive was it to support the lives of so many people? There had been at least forty here tonight, and the ladies had told me how he only let a select few into Madame Corban's – only those who needed it enough that it was okay to risk the secret of the Noble's hideout. If forty was just a 'few' then how many others did he aid?

The front door suddenly opened.

I gasped as Edward entered. I could only see a vague shape, but I knew. _Just as well as I knew it was his lips on me in my dream..._

"Isabella," he said tiredly, his voice slightly breathy with the cold blowing in from outside. Realizing it, he quickly shut the door and approached me. "What are you doing up?"

As he came into the light of my candle, I saw that his hair was flecked with snow. His eyes looked as though he had seen a hundred more years of life. So worn, so tired.

"You're bleeding," I said quietly. There was a thin cut on his cheek, a brilliant red on his pale skin.

He blinked and brought a finger to it. He hardly glanced at the blood. "It does not matter." He pushed past me and opened a door on the right of the corridor. "Go back to bed."

But I did not want to leave again. I followed him into the dark room. By the candlelight I could see it was an office of sorts, with a desk with a map on it, as well as a side table with spare parchment and quills.

"Isabella," Edward said warningly, his eyes reflecting the flame.

I wanted to be angry at him for ordering me around, for not speaking to me and for a thousand other things, but I saw the tiredness in his face. It seemed age old, not just from the loss of a few hours' sleep. "You didn't find them," I realized. "The man's sons."

The last of his own fight went out of his eyes. "No," he said, then brusquely unfastened his cloak and threw it over a chair. Then he sat, putting a hand to his forehead. "I never do."

I felt an ache in my heart for the poor father. Swallowing, I took my candle from its holder and lit the candles on brackets. Then I knelt by the small fireplace. It had already been prepared for tomorrow, and so it crackled into life, casting the room in its orange glow. Edward looked as though he needed some warmth.

I spotted a wash basin upon a small chest of drawers – perhaps Edward stayed here sometimes. My heart thrumming, I picked up the basin and knelt at his side. Nervously, I brought the damp cloth to his cheek. His hand was around my wrist in a single second. He studied me for a moment. "What are you doing, Isabella?" he asked quietly. His fingers pressed into my skin.

"I don't know," I whispered in reply. I knew him to be a murderer. And I knew him to have hurt me and threatened me. But then, I realized, I didn't really know him at all.

Hesitantly, he dropped his hand from my wrist. Somehow he had understood my answer. My heart trilled stupidly as I gently wiped the blood from his cheek.

"You should not be doing this," he said quietly, looking distantly into the candlelight. "You're injured."

"I want to."

"Want to nurse the Noble Killer?" he said mildly. "I cannot even take care of my own people."

"You try to take care of them," I replied softly. "That is more than anyone else does."

"But it is not enough!" he snapped at me, then immediately sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Forgive me. I have not been sleeping well."

Taking a deep breath to steady my startled heart, I put the cloth back in the basin and pushed it away. Then I knelt up, my hand resting on the arm of the chair. I looked at the tired man in front of me. "Tell me," I said so quietly, almost like I didn't fully wish him to hear me. I knew I was overstepping my boundaries yet again.

But he pinched the bridge of his nose and said, "It has been happening for years. My people getting stolen off the streets and never seen again." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, "Mothers, fathers, youths – people with families. And they're never found. _I've _never found them."

"Does the sheriff know?" I asked.

He gave a humourless laugh, dropping his hand, "Crossby does not care for the wellbeing of the undeserving poor. He knows there have been disappearances – many people have gone to him to beg his help finding their loved ones before they come to me. He must have realized the number of missing people, but unless those missing people have someone rich caring about them they are not worth worrying about."

"So it is only you who cares," I said, appreciating the burden he carried.

"And Carlisle," he said. "He is doing what he can in parliament, but they will not listen."

"Why would anyone want to kidnap beggars?" I mused. "It is not even as if someone could pay ransom."

"I would," said Edward. He shook his head, "But that is not what they are using them for."

"You know, then?" I said, surprised.

"Of course not," he said brusquely.

I frowned at his quick denial, but decided to leave it.

"Regardless," I said quietly. "You cannot blame yourself for the cruelty of another man."

"I can." He stared decisively at the candle's flame. Then, almost to himself, he whispered, "All I can do is right his wrongs."

"Who's wrongs?"

He shook his head slightly. I knew well enough now that I could push him no further.

We sat quietly for a moment. Edward's finger began drawing a pensive circle on the tabletop. _Circling again..._

My heart was finally returning to regular beats when Edward said abruptly, "Sebastian told me you'd found out about the clerk."

I nodded cautiously. As much as I wanted to confront him about his murders, I did not wish to _now, _when I felt some progress had been made...when I felt calm around him.

"I am sorry he had to die," Edward said, his voice rough. "He did not deserve it."

"Then _why?" _I said, my hatred of Edward returning to me.

But Edward did not react to the anger in my tone, "He could have recognized you and I could not have that."

"Sebastian has already told me," I said. "But I do not wish anyone to die on my behalf."

"It was for the good of everyone who would have been found out if you had succumbed to torture, Isabella," he said a little harder.

"I know," I said. "But that does not mean I will not have the man's life on my conscience forevermore."

"It was your own fault," his jaw twitched and his eyes darkened. "You should not have tried to tell the sheriff. You put all of us at risk."

"I know that!" I said, suddenly standing up. I flinched at the pain, but my anger was greater. "You are not the only one with a conscience, Edward!" I exclaimed. "And I wish for that man's sake that I had not gone to see the Sheriff, but how could I have known that anyone who saw me would be murdered! And how could I have known that you were sheltering so many good people when all you did was put a blade to my throat and spat at me to keep my silence!"

I stepped toward him. "When all you did was make me fear for my life!" I gasped as pain ripped through my ribs. Terrible coughs began to rack my body. I sunk to the ground, not wanting to show my weakness, but I could not help it.

"Isabella," I heard Edward breathe, and then he was kneeling in front of me, swiftly bringing his handkerchief to my lips. Helpless, I clutched it. Blood spotted the white silk. "Good God," he said, his hand on my arm as I coughed and coughed. Finally it died down. Praying I did not vomit, I put a shaking hand to my wound and caught my breath. Edward and I sat in silence as my pain abated. His hand still rested on my arm, and I could feel his concerned gaze on me. "You should not have to go through such pain because of me," he whispered eventually. "This is not a world I ever meant for you to be involved in."

"I brought it upon myself," I said hoarsely.

Edward gave me a half smile, "When I heard you were to come stay with Lord Carlisle, I did not expect you to be so much trouble, Isabella...and when you followed me that first night, you caught me so much off my guard that I treated you in...an entirely dishonourable way – a way in which no woman deserves to be treated."

I looked down. I was not used to being given apologies.

I felt Edward's finger under my chin, gently bringing my eyes to meet his.

"Please, Isabella," he said earnestly, his green eyes shining in the candlelight. "You must not think for a second that I would ever fulfil any of those threats. I would never hurt you...I would never hurt anyone unless it was entirely, utterly necessary. Those threats were empty; they were made to make you fear me..." his thumb brushed my jaw. "Though even then, your fear did not stop you from doing what was right..."

Gently, so very gently, he traced the line of my cheekbone, setting my skin tingling, then down to just touch the very corner of my lip. I felt my breath on his finger. "My sword was never meant for such fairness," he whispered, studying my face intently, his finger drawing the line of my lip. "Nor was any sword."

Slowly, ever so slowly, he leaned forward. His hand slid to cup my neck. My eyes flickered shut. All I could hear was his breath and mine. So close our lips were, I could almost taste him. His fingers caressed my skin...

But then the front door slammed. We both reeled back. Lord Edward leapt to his feet. There was a single knock on the door before Sebastian entered. "Howard says the tunnel's clear, M'lord, and he says..." Sebastian trailed off, seeing me sitting frozen on the floor.

"He says what, Sebastian?" Edward said impatiently. His voice was only a little husky, as if nothing had happened.

"That – " Sebastian broke off his stare at me and looked at his master. "He says that you ought to come through."

"Thank you," Edward said, collecting his cloak from the chair and heading towards the door. "I shall return tomorrow. Take care to escort Miss Swan back to her room."

"Aye, sir," Sebastian said in surprise, watching him go. As the front door shut again in the corridor, Sebastian looked at me. "What were you – "

"Nothing," I said quickly, feeling so very humiliated, though my mind was not quite functioning yet. "My Lord caught me snooping in here. I had a coughing fit. That was all."

With an embarrassed nod he helped me up. I leant on his arm as we ascended the stairs. "Why were you snooping?" he asked me as we reached the steps. "It's just...I know my lord would like you very much if you stopped defying his orders. And you know his secret now, so there's nothing between you..."

"His secret?" I repeated. "You mean this place?"

"Aye," he said, helping me into my room. "And the reason why he's killing nobles, too."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he's ridding the World of all the nasty snobbish buggers who hurt the poor, isn't he? So that one day there will be a parliament of good men like himself and Lord Carlisle who'll take care of their lessers."

I blinked. "But...why was that made out as being so personal?"

Sebastian shrugged, "Probably to stop you from asking so many questions." He grinned his cheeky grin, "Not that it worked."

I smiled on cue, though my mind was in a whirlwind. "Indeed not."

I climbed into my bed and Sebastian blew the light out. "Goodnight, my Lady."

"Goodnight, Sebastian," I replied and waited for him to shut the door.

I swallowed, listening to the silence for a moment. _Lord Edward had almost...almost...oh sweet Lord! _I brought a shaking hand to my lips. My face still burned where his fingers had touched me. I felt my flaming cheeks. The first heat that had been in them since I'd been shot.

_But what on earth does it mean? Does it mean anything at all? Most likely not..._

I tried to draw on my incredibly small knowledge of men. In my books, they were always chivalrous and loving, like Scudamour to Amoret in the _Faerie Queene. _But my nurse had been quick to warn me that really man only ever wanted two things from woman; heirs and what she called 'the Act'. Even I, in my innocence understood her meaning, even if I did not know the finer details.

_I still do not know the finer details, _I thought. _Despite being a 'country girl', like Lady Alice called me. _But that wasn't the point. The point was that Lord Edward had probably almost kissed me because he was a man and he probably just wanted...well, _that. _

I frowned. That didn't really seem realistic, either. I, particularly in my current state, was not exactly _attractive. _I thought of the whores I had seen at the Swan Inn. Their breasts had been spilling out of their bodices...and their faces had been made up, and their eyes were all flirtatious-like. I was not such a woman. And I was sure that someone of Lord Edward's...looks...would have no trouble finding many women like that.

An image of Miranda immediately sparked into my head. Perhaps her breasts hadn't been spilling from her bodice, but she certainly had a pretty face and seemed so very protective of her master. _But if she is Lord Edward's lover then why did he just...almost..._

I sighed and took my hand away from my lips. It was nearing dawn, I knew – I should try to sleep.

But even in my dreams, he would not escape me.

_We faced each other this time, standing chest to chest. His arms were around me tightly, my hands rested lightly on his chest. His lips dusted my forehead, my cheeks, my throat, my jaw with kisses. But it was not long before I felt the familiar object in my hands again. Edward withdrew himself, putting his hands on top of mine. _

_And then we were in the ballroom again. "I know what to do this time," I heard myself say. For everywhere I looked, men were dressed in fine clothing, more expensive than what a peasant would earn in a year. Beggars and cripples sat between the dancers, and everyone simply stepped past, oblivious to their suffering._

"_Then do it," Edward whispered in my ear. And I did. And soon all those men were just dead bodies on the ground. Lord Carlisle and Lord Edward stood among them, staring at me again in disgust._

"_But I thought – " I began, but Edward cut me off._

"_I would never hurt anyone unless it was entirely, utterly necessary," he said, then turned his back on me forever._

* * *

Chapter Nine is already written - it is just requiring some final tweaking.

**Thank you so much for reading!**

**Please review - I'd love to know what you think of the goings on!**


	9. Chapter 9

Hello!

It took a week, but problems arose and then time just vanished...

Bleh, had quite a bad week, really, but I'm so glad to have this out!

**Thank you so much for the reviews!**

**They make a world of difference! Knowing what you think of Lord Edward and Isabella is so helpful!**

Please review this chapter!

And, most importantly,

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"How does the Noble choose his victims?" I asked Sebastian. We were seated at one of the long tables in the great hall, eating bread and porridge. It wasn't quite Lady Esme's eggs and lime juice, but just as filling. I had been seated right next to the head of the table. Although it was clearly an informal setting, I still knew it had been done on purpose.

Many people had greeted me a good morning as they had quickly gulped down their food and dashed off to wherever they were going. Sebastian had informed me that Lord Edward ordered that any who could work had to work, so long as there was a job available. He was not a charity to those who were undeserving, which I thought was fair enough. Being late morning, there were only a few people here and there. The pregnant girl still sat in her same corner from last night. I wondered when she was due, and whether the father would turn up.

"I'm not really sure," Sebastian answered, swallowing a mouthful of ale. "Some of his targets have been difficult to get at, yet he's always adamant that they're the ones he wants. I think he tries to find a reason that's public first – like Lord Golding, the one from the Swan. He was renowned for imprisoning, sometimes killing any beggars who get near his property."

"He was still murdered?" I asked. The last I had seen of him was just before I had been shot. He'd been cowering on the ground.

"Aye," said Sebastian. "One of the Noble's Men got him, drunken idiot."

I nodded, as if it did not bother me that we were talking about the slaughtering of a man. "So how many...how many people has the Noble..."

"Fifteen noblemen," Sebastian said proudly. "Plus a few others."

I put my spoon down, my appetite lost. "Over how long a time?" I asked.

"Two years," he said.

The memory of my nightmare flickered in my head. All those dead bodies... "But why doesn't he kill more? For there are surely more nobles who hurt the poor?"

"Aye," said Sebastian. "And he will, but each kill takes planning and reconnaissance before it can be achieved. The secret of his identity is the most important thing. If he loses it, then we lose everything." Sebastian waved a hand at the room. "The Sheriff will easily trace his name back to here."

"But how did a lord end up owning a house in Southwark, anyway?" I asked, lowering my voice so as not to be overheard.

Sebastian shrugged, "I don't know. There are rumours at court about his past – that his family fell upon hard times, but no one here has any reason to care."

"What happened?" I asked.

"I have not bothered to listen," he replied. "And you should not either, my Lady. Besides, my Lord is hardly the person he is perceived to be at court. Most of it's made up." A grin broke out on his face at some thought, and he shook his head. "Aye, Lord Edward Masen is a very different man indeed."

"How do you mean?" I asked, but then one of the women from last night walked up to us. She was a prostitute, one could easily tell that much. But she was young, too. Perhaps a year short of me, and very thin.

"'ello my Lady," she said, bobbing an awkward curtsy. Her wide eyes moved to Sebastian. "'ello Seb." I saw a slight blush come to her cheeks.

"Jessica," Sebastian said with an unhappy smile. "How goes it?"

"Well," she said enthusiastically. "Very well; the Noble says I'm to 'ave a maid's uniform as soon as Clarissa moves out to Edinburgh."

_A whore no longer, then, _I thought. _And Edward helped her to do it._

Sebastian's smile was becoming faker by the second. Sensing this, he stood up, twisting his cap in his hands. "Well, I'd best go. The Noble'll be waiting." He turned to me. "Forgive me, my Lady..." he could hardly look at the girl. "Jessica."

He could not have left the room quicker.

Frowning, I looked to the girl. Now _she _was the one standing awkwardly. "Come, sit," I said to her with a smile.

"Oh, I'd be honoured!" she exclaimed, and quickly bundled herself over the bench. She sat down with an 'oomf', "Oh my _lord, _I've never felt so fat in me life!"

I laughed, though she immediately slammed a hand over her mouth. "Forgive me," she said quickly. "I'm not used to being all polite-like."

I put a hand on her elbow, "Worry not, I'm always getting my manners wrong."

She brought her hand away and sighed in awe, "Aw, you're so kind, Miss! And so pretty-like. We're all so 'appy to have you 'ere."

I looked down, "I'm afraid I've not done enough for such appreciation."

"You saved the Noble's life," she said. "Why 'e risks it for us poor buggers in the first place, I don't know, but 'e does, and we're all so grateful. And if 'e had died, we'd all be out on the streets again, or in the Clink, or waiting for the executioner's noose. But you saved 'im, and so saved us all." Then she smiled, "Besides; it's nice to see our master's got a lady-friend."

Now I truly blushed, "I do not believe it's like that."

"Oh," she said. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to be all presumptive-like. Though everyone's calling you the Noble's Lady now, even the Sheriff's people." She giggled, "You've put old Crossby in a terrible uproar – that was meant to be the Noble's great downfall. Bet you he and whoever tipped 'im off are kicking themselves. Well," she amended. "Maybe not the one who tipped 'im off, since I 'eard that the Noble had dealt with 'im."

I just nodded.

"Well, I'd best be off," said Jessica. "I've got plenty of errands to run. The old cook in the kitchens has been givin' me lists and lists."

"You are going alone?" I asked.

"Aye," she said with a nod. "But don't worry, milady, I've never knocked a salt cellar over in my life..." she gave me a cheeky smile which was much like Sebastian's. "But o' course I've never seen one in me life, neither."

I laughed, then said, "Well, if you would permit me to come with you, I would be much obliged."

"Really?" she breathed. "Oh, I'd be much obliged too, milady."

"I'd best ask Madame Corban first," I said. "But I would very much like to accompany you."

Madame Corban was against my going out at first, but she soon conceded after hearing me out. My first point was that there was surely no benefit in me sitting around here, and that I needed to regain my strength. My second was that it was ridiculous that Miss Jessica, a young girl, was being sent out into the dirty streets of London without any companion, and that since I wasn't doing anything, I could be a poor substitute.

"That is very charitable of you, child," said Madame Corban, staring at me suspiciously through those thickly lined eyes.

I frowned at her scepticism, "I feel I should earn my keep, just like everyone else."

"Very well, then," she replied. She turned her gaze to my new friend, "But Jessica, if you tire the Noble's Lady out then you will have the Noble himself to answer to. No running around and _no _talking to strangers."

"Yes Madame," Jessica said with a curtsy.

"Now, child," she said, turning back to me. "Let's see about a dress."

*T*L*

My dress was more of a skirt, as it turned out. Madame Corban used my nightgown as a smock, which I was not best pleased about, as I had been wearing it for over a week now. But I held my tongue, knowing she probably didn't have that many resources.

An off-white partlet was tied around my chest, and then a dark brown skirt was fastened around my waist. Strangely enough, the bodice, which was what the poor had replaced the corset with, went over the top of all this. Madame Corban laced the brown leather at the front. She did not do it particularly tight, saying that it would not do to have it crushing my wound. Even if it was tighter, I doubted it would have performed the same miracle on my waist and bosom that my usual corsets did. The entire thing was very worn.

Still, I was thankful for it, and even more thankful when Madame Corban produced my travel cloak – clean of my blood. I tied up and covered my hair with a piece of white cloth, as instructed by Jessica. Then I slid my feet into my shoes from the night I had been shot. I was also happy to discover that the sheath and dagger which Miranda had given me was lying on the floor. I quickly fastened it around my leg before we left.

Southwark was a very different place to Lord Carlisle's area. Sewage ran down the middle of the street, carriages tore along, throwing people out of the way. Vendors cried out their wares. Children played between the agitated legs of horses. Fishwives shouted, drunks hurled bottles at daring pigeons, farmers trying to get to the market prodded their sheep along.

All around there was a wealth of activity. Sights and smells and sounds, most relatively unpleasant, invaded my senses. There was such life here!

Jessica navigated easily through all of it, used to the streets she had grown up on.

She was very excitable, much like Lady Alice, though their lives could not have been more different. As we walked from task to task she told me her whole story. As it turned out, she had grown up in a stew – a whorehouse – because her mother had been a goose but had died of syphilis. She had been lucky, she said, that one of the Noble's spies had found her the night before her first job as a working girl and had rescued her from the clutches of her procurer.

"But how did they know to trust you?" I asked as we walked down a slightly quieter street. "How did they know that you would not tell the Sheriff in exchange for money?"

"The Noble's got 'is ways of knowing when someone's going to be trustworthy or not," she replied. "He's many connections in even the darkest of corners. I s'pose they just judge character. I reckon you can tell in the blink of an eye whether someone's trustworthy or no'."

"But how do you know the Noble's trustworthy?" I asked.

"I just _know _it," she said. "You know? You just feel all safe-like around 'im. Even when 'e's in one of 'is moods, I always just _know _'e'd never do anything bad to any of us." She smiled. "Course, you'd know tha' better than me."

"I'm afraid not," I said, even as memories of his caring flooded my mind; his arms around me on the banks of the Thames, his calm voice as I struggled to get into the tunnels, the way his hand had clutched mine as Madame Corban had tended to me, his silent caress last night... "I just do not know where we stand," I whispered, to myself more than to Jessica.

She replied anyway, "Why, he is your lord and you 'is lady." Her voice had a certainty which I could not feel.

I smiled, wishing to believe it despite everything he had done to me. It seemed my picture of our relationship was getting blurrier and clearer at the same time. Clearer because we had spoken...and because I did at least know _part _of his reason for murdering nobles.

But blurrier, because I could no longer hate him with all that he had done for people like Jessica, and yet I still did not understand his motives. I thought I had known the answer – Edward was just ridding the world of bad people – but my dream was still vivid in my head. Just like Jessica knew she could trust him, I knew that there was more to his reasons than just blind charity. No noble would suddenly spend all his money on the poor – there would have to be a _very _good reason, something which would change the very foundations of what nobles were taught to think.

I sighed and tried to free my mind of him, instead turning my attention to my surroundings. We had arrived at the market. Jessica told me to be careful, for cutpurses loved such settings. "And also," she said as we inspected some parsnips. "Take care to move quick, or the Snatcher'll get you."

"The Snatcher?"

"Aye," she said. "The one who's been kidnapping all our people. He attacks here all the time; such is the hustle and bustle that no one notices when the bums disappear."

"It's terrible," I muttered.

"Oh aye," said Jessica. "But don't you worry 'bout it, milady. We'll be safe if we're together."

And we were safe, it seemed, for we went through our errands with ease. Jessica was a real bargainer, arguing passionately with vendors, flirting or insulting as necessary, and then walking away only to be called back by a desperate cry from the vendor that she could have it for a much smaller amount than they'd previously offered.

"They ought to keep you doing this job," I said as we finally left the market. "You clearly save a great deal," I gestured to the purse, still with coin in it, tied to her skirts.

"Oh aye," she said. "But they don't know it, see. There's this old goose in Bankside who's not got a penny to 'er name and all the other geese shun. Since I've bin saved an' all, I figured I should 'elp 'er, so that's where all the saved money's going. The Noble knows, of course – 'e was the one to tell me where she was, and 'e said I should keep looking after 'er – just not to tell anyone else." Jessica looked at me anxiously, "You won't tell, will you? She's such a nice ol' thing..."

"Of course not," I assured her. "Will we be seeing her now?"

"Oh aye!" Jessica said excitedly, "If you ain't too tired. It's not too far."

I smiled, "Lead the way, my friend."

It was indeed not very far at all. Just off the market square was a street filled with tradesmen's workshops. Carpenters, farriers, blacksmiths and tanners all worked amongst one another. The noise of clashing metal, the heat of so many fires, the stench of smoke and cows' hides was almost unbearable. Just like everywhere else, the tradesmen were calling out what wares they had for sale, and people bustled past, some dragging their horses behind them for shoeing.

"Forgive me," I said over the noise, "But why would your friend wish to live in a place like this?"

"Believe me!" Jessica had to shout back over the din of a farrier and his anvil. "Everyone's tried getting 'er to move, what with all this smoke, but she refuses – I'm sure she'll tell you why. She tells me every time I visit!"

As we got a little further down the street, the noise lessened to being almost agreeable – more of the workshops were for tanning now. "'ere we are," chimed Jessica.

We turned to face an old, boarded up workshop. A worn sign above read the words;

_A M and Son._

_Sword Smiths_

And sitting in front of the shop, head and face covered in a grubby, tatty shawl, sat an old crone.

"'ello Mrs Maple," said Jessica, approaching the woman cautiously. _Surely this is not suitable company for a youthful girl..._

The woman suddenly snapped up, as if she had been woken, "Stay away!" she squawked from shrivelled lips. "Away! Away!"

Jessica gave me a look which said this was usual, and knelt down next to her. Tentatively, I did the same. "It's me, Jessica," said my friend, patting the crone's wrinkled hand.

"Enter not herein!" she cried out again. I could see now that her eyes were glazed over in a kind of milky white – a blind crone, then. "For those who go in do not come out!"

Passersby turned to look, but I noticed that the tanners and carpenters on either side did not bother to glance.

"What does she mean?" I asked Jessica.

"Mimi?" gasped the woman, her hand suddenly shot out and grabbed hold of my wrist. "No...no for your heart still beats."

She grabbed hold of Jessica's next, "No, no, not you, either. No, no," suddenly she let go and began biting her nails. "No, no, Mimi will never come home...Mimi never, never. Beware! For those who go in do not come out!"

"Why, Mrs Maple?" asked Jessica for my benefit.

"For there inside lies the devil, and he be feasting on the riches of human flesh. A thousand roasts, for that is what I smell! A thousand roasts."

"That is just the blacksmith's fires," I said to her, pitying the poor thing.

"Blacksmith!" she shrieked. "Aye! He were a blacksmith! His son, too! But no blacksmith e'er wore jewels as they did! Riches of human flesh! Human flesh of hundreds, gone, gone, gone! And my Mimi..."

"Disappearances?" I said to Jessica, my mind ticking.

"Aye, hundreds, she's always said."

"The Snatcher?" I guessed, but she shook her head.

"No, this was years back – five or six, I think she said."

"Six years!" the crone cried again. "Be it since I saw my Mimi. And five since these lodgings be boarded up for richer places!"

Rightfully doubting my ability to understand the woman, Jessica told me, "Six years ago, Mrs Maple claims that the owner of this place kidnapped people off the streets and they were never seen again – "

"For those who go in do not come out! No, no, no!"

" – and the owner became all rich and packed up 'is shop and went on to be even richer still."

"A devil in the Queen's own court!" the crone shouted.

"What was his name?" I asked.

"Don't know," said Jessica. "Says 'im and 'is son kept to themselves. Only know them by those initials – A M. But that's pretty normal in these parts. The more people know 'bout you, the easier it is for 'em to hunt you down when you've cheated 'em."

"Devils! That's their name! Devils!"

"Is it true?" I asked Jessica, curious.

She smiled at me, "Well, if 'undreds of people were disappearing, wouldn't the people 'ave noticed like we 'ave this time? There would have been more people who remembered, wouldn't there? Not just a couple of dozen? Mrs Mapel's daughter, Mimi, probably just died in the Black Death – there was a nasty bout of it at that time."

"Mimi will never come home!"

"There, there, Mrs Maple," said Jessica, patting her on the hand. "I've brought some coin for you, so that you can get some food."

"A thousand roasts!" she shouted. Jessica sighed and poured the coin into the crone's shaking hands. She stood, and I followed suit.

"I'll be by again soon," said Jessica.

"God bless," I whispered, not knowing what else to say.

We left to the cry of "Those who go in do not come out!"

* * *

**Hmmmm...thoughts?**

**The next chapter is about a paragraph from finished!**

Expect it later tonight or tomorrow morning :D

Finding it kind of creepy to write at present...tehe. You'll see!

**Please review! I really want to know what you're thinking/feeling/seething/laughing about!**


	10. Chapter 10

Hello again!

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* * *

The sky was darkening as we made our way out of the craftsmen's street and back into the market square, which was beginning to pack up.

"But the man and his boy must have been real?" I said.

"Oh aye," said Jessica, examining an embroidered chemise hanging by one of the Jewish clothing stalls. "And I reckon they must've made some money somewhere to be able to cross the river to the 'right side'. They were probably doing something illegal, but it ain't like Mrs Maple's story's true."

"Poor woman," I said quietly. "She seemed to be in such distress."

We wove our way through the market square, stopping every once in a while to view the wares. I was particularly interested in a stall of old books.

I told Jessica of my love of books and poetry.

"You should go to St Pauls, milady," suggested Jessica as we left the market behind us, walking onto quieter roads. "It's a book lover's dream, alright."

"Do you read?" I asked.

She laughed, "Oh no, Miss, though I'd very much like to."

"Doesn't the Noble have someone teaching you?"

"Just the younguns, really," she said. "Though I'm sure if I asked...there just aren't an awful lo' of tutors or reading material."

"Perhaps I could help," I said. "I'm no Kit Marlowe, but I am literate."

"Oh really?" Jessica squealed, "Oh thank you!" Then she threw her arms around me, right there in the middle of the street. Like before, she quickly realized her mistake, and stepped back. "Oh I'm terribly sorry, Miss, you know I'm just – " she cut off. Her face drained of colour, her eyes fixed on something over my shoulder.

"Jessica?" I said, turning to look at the still crowded street. "What is it?"

"Him," she squeaked, pointing. I saw now, a man striding purposefully down the street toward us. He wore a green, bejewelled doublet, but it was oddly misshapen, suggesting it had had several owners before reaching him. A one shouldered cape was fastened across his chest, and his ugly face was set directly on us.

"Who is he?" I demanded quickly, taking Jessica's elbow and ensuring she sped up. The street we were on was not deserted, exactly, but there were just a few people around.

"My old procurer," she squeaked. "He's come to claim me back..."

"He must have followed us from the market," I muttered. I glanced behind me. The man was gaining on us, too quickly for my liking. "How far are we from Madame Corban's?"

"Just to the en' of this street and round," she said shakily. "And then along Bankside and then..."

"Alright, do not worry yourself, Jessica," I said, feigning calmness. I looked around again. He was but twenty yards away, still gaining. I cursed myself for my slowness, but I already felt out of breath and my wound _ached._

"Jessica!" the man called out.

"Keep walking," I said.

"Oh Lord," she whispered, looking behind her. The move proved fatal, for she tripped on the uneven ground. I knew then that there was no point in trying to run. He was there. Quickly, I knelt down next to her and, as I pulled her to her feet, I took the dagger from my calf and hid it in my skirts. "When I say run..." I whispered to her.

Then, we turned to face the man. He was aging, I could tell, and his beady black eyes and snarl was a sight to be feared. But he only had eyes for poor Jessica.

"Knew I'd find you sooner or later, my pretty," he said.

"Please, James," she whispered, taking a step back from him.

But he grabbed her wrist in a vicelike grip. "No pleading's going to get you anywhere, whore," he spat. "You lost me a valuable customer that night."

"It was years ago!" she whimpered.

He gazed at her, "Perhaps we can come to an arrangement, if you leave with me now and work off the money I lost, I will let you live."

"No, please, le' me go!"

He gripped her wrist even harder, pulling her closer to him, "I don't think so," he snarled.

"Enough!" I commanded, pushing myself between Jessica and the bastard.

He stared at me for a second, "Do I know you – "

Using his pause as an advantage, I raised my heeled shoe and rammed it into his crotch. He let out a cry and keeled over, clutching his privates. The idiot didn't even have money for a codpiece. Quickly, so as not to lose advantage, I brought my dagger to his throat and clutched a handful of his hair, yanking his head back to look at me. His eyes were flaming in anger.

"You little bitch!" he snarled.

"No," I said loud enough for all to hear, for I could see from the corners of my eyes that people had stopped. "I am the Noble's Lady, and if you dare touch my friend again, I shall slit your throat right the way round and not think a thing of it." I knew I only had limited time before he regained his strength. Quickly, I kicked him hard in the crotch again, then stood up. "Let it be known that this _pathetic _excuse for a man is both black and blue in the head _and _in his breeches!"

"Huzzah!" cried one of the onlookers. Others began to laugh.

"Now," I said to Jessica, who was staring at the writhing man on the ground. "Run!"

And run we both did, to the end of the street, round the corner, and onto the riverbank. The Thames rushed along beside us. "Keep going!" I gasped, even though there were people about. I did not want to think of it, but I had assaulted a man – if it was my word against his, he would win.

People stared as we ran by, but I cared not. "Keep going," I kept whispering, more to myself than to Jessica, who was easily keeping up.

It seemed to take an age to leave the Thames behind. Then we rounded one corner after the next until I could not take it anymore. I collapsed in a doorway. "Oh sweet God," I whimpered, barely dragging air through my lips. My wound burned now.

"Milady, shall I fetch help?" said Jessica, kneeling in front of me. "We're close now..."

"No," I gasped. "No, just wait."

We sat for just a few minutes, though the pain felt timeless, never ending. Eventually, though, it did dissipate.

We continued on, down the backstreets to the empty street where the Noble's House stood. It was nondescript – just one black door in a street of houses all three stories high, all seeming to be leaning forward slightly, crammed together.

"Madame Corban ain't going to be 'appy with me," Jessica said, watching me as we walked into the dark corridor. I had to clutch one of her arms for support. "I'm so sorry, Miss."

"That is alright, Jessica," I said. "I am only glad that I was there, or else you may not have returned home."

"Thank you," she whispered, and then suddenly burst into tears. I was taken aback for a moment, then realized just how much this _'James' _had terrified her and tormented her.

Tentatively, I put my arms around her shaking shoulders, "It is alright, Jessica," I whispered, rubbing her back. "You're safe."

"Isabella."

We both looked up. My heart thudded. Edward stood there, his eyes on me. Madame Corban stood behind him, looking between me and Jessica disapprovingly.

Nervously, I gave Jessica one final pat on the arm and wordlessly followed Edward into his office. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks as I thought of last night, sitting on this same floor, Edward's lips so close to my own...

But now the room was properly lit with candles, and the fire burned gently in the hearth.

Edward clicked the door shut behind us and then turned to me. His eyes were blazing, "What in God's name did you think you were doing?"

I frowned, "I just went out with Jessica." I felt my own anger flare, "I could not believe you would think to send out a girl like that alone."

Edward gasped, running a hand through his hair, "James Witherdale, Isabella, is not someone you should threaten – let alone hold a knife to his throat!"

I stopped, "How do you know – "

"Spies, Isabella," he snapped. "Spies who can run a lot faster than you and fight a lot better than you."

"Then why wasn't one of them looking after Jessica!" I exclaimed. "If I had not been there then she would be back in his clutches now!"

"That is not your concern!" he replied. "You could have been killed yourself! Or worse!"

"But that's not what happened," I said.

"That doesn't mean it won't happen next time, Isabella," he snapped. "You are not invincible, and my name does not make you so."

I cringed internally – _'I am the Noble's Lady' –_ "I did not mean to say such a thing," I said quietly, feeling embarrassed despite everything. "It just came out...I know I hold no allegiance to any of this, nor to Jessica or...you..." I felt slightly sick at my words, but I was unsure why. I glanced up at him through my eyelashes.

He paused only a moment before saying quietly, "We are branded with names thought most befitting to us by the public. It cannot be helped."

I gazed at him, "You do not think yourself noble?"

He gazed back, those green eyes pensive now, "Do you think I am?"

I looked away, "My opinions are of little consequence."

"Not to me."

In surprise, my eyes met his. They looked back seriously. _He is speaking a truth..._

I swallowed, "I...I don't know yet."

"Yet?" he asked.

"I don't understand you," I said quietly, fiddling with the fabric of my skirts. "I do not know you."

He gave an involuntary smile, "I suppose without the knowledge of my favourite colour and what my preferred season is, you cannot be fit to pass judgement on me."

I found myself smiling, "And let us not omit the tales of your worst childhood nanny."

"Oh, she was a right bore," he said nonchalantly, his eyes twinkling. "She spent her days swearing at me in French and her nights snoring loudly in the nursery chair."

The idea of Lord Edward Masen being dominated by a fat French nanny brought a laugh bubbling to my lips. The pain in my wound spiked and I stopped, bring my hand over my ribs.

Edward frowned, "You must go and see Madame Corban."

For once, I simply nodded. He opened the door for me. But then I remembered... "There is one more thing," I said tentatively.

He nodded for me to go on.

"The Snatcher...I think perhaps there is a lead. Jessica showed me this sword smith, where there were once these disappearances – "

Abruptly, Edward shut the door, his eyes darkening. "There is nothing there."

"I know," I said. "Jessica said it was just the plague, but what if the Snatcher was acting then, as well? What if he's still acting out of there and – "

"Isabella." Edward's voice was harsh now. "The sword smiths has nothing to do with the Snatcher. I have already looked into it. Do not speak of it again, to anyone."

I frowned, "But this could be our one chance – "

"No, Isabella," he snapped. "And there is no 'our' about it. This is not your battle. You have nothing in common with these people. This is not your business."

"But I – "

"Madame Corban says you are recovering. I will organise a coach for you tomorrow morning."

I could not hide my hurt, "But Edward I – "

He opened the door, "Out. Now."

I gave him the most poisonous glare I could muster and stormed out.

The door slammed shut behind me.

With a huff, I pulled myself up the rickety stairs. How dare he speak to me so? After everything that had happened. And why? He said it was not my business, as if I hadn't taken a bullet for him, as if I hadn't just saved one of his people, as if I hadn't almost been _kissed _by him last night...

But the first part of guilt passed through me then. He was right – he had never asked me to be a part of this. I was the one who had chosen to follow him all those times. And I hadn't helped anyone.

I eventually reached my room. Fed up and lost, I yanked out the strings of my corset pulled it off. Then I sat down on the hard wooden floor and untied the stupid sheath and dagger from my leg – as if could ever have used it properly.

As it dropped to the floor, the dagger slid out of its sheath.

I blinked, then leaned forward and picked it up. At the bottom of the blade, just above the hilt, were the etched letters:

_A_

_M_

I stared at it contemplatively, not really knowing what to think. It was a coincidence. Just an unfortunate one...

"My lady?" came a knock on the door. Quickly, I pushed the dagger under my bed and stood just as Madame Corban entered, carrying a bowl of water. She looked wistfully at my face, but miss interpreted the look on it. "The Noble is just trying to keep you safe, child."

"I know," I said quietly. The sick feeling in my stomach grew. In the back of my mind, thoughts were ticking.

I lay down and let Madame Corban treat and bandage my wound again.

I stared up at the bare, cobwebbed ceiling of my room... "Madame Corban," I said quietly. "What was the Noble's father's name?"

"You know better than to speak of the Noble like that, child," she replied, placing some sort of leaf over my wound before bandaging it.

"I know," I said. "But no one will hear us...and I am curious..." _think of some sort of excuse, Isabella! _"I just...I want to know more about him. Because I think I am starting to trust him..."

Madame Corban paused, looking down at me with a suspicious look, "Is it trust or something more, child?"

I looked away in surprise. "Of course not..."

I heard a gentle laugh, "His name was Anthony, I believe. Anthony Masen."

My stomach dropped then. I forced myself to lie stock still, even as my mind whirled.

_A M. Anthony Masen... "There are rumours in court about his past"... "He were a blacksmith! His son, too!" _Edward...Anthony and Edward Masen... _"The owner of this place kidnapped people off the streets and they were never seen again" ... "Do not speak of it again, to anyone" ... "The Noble knows, of course – 'e was the one to tell me where she was, and 'e said I should keep looking after 'er – just not to tell anyone else"..._so that they wouldn't know his story...so that those who knew the Noble's identity wouldn't make the connections. So that they wouldn't realize that Edward Masen, the Noble killer who was supposedly risking his life to save the poor, was the Snatcher himself...

"Child?" Madame Corban's face hovered above mine, her dark skin crinkled in concern. "Are you in pain?"

"I'm fine," I whispered hoarsely. "Just tired."

She frowned, but pulled back. "Come down for dinner soon. I am sure the women would appreciate your company."

I nodded mutely and waited for her to go.

As soon as the stairs finished creaking, I sat up.

_What am I to do?_ I thought to my dark, empty room. If Edward was the Snatcher then he had to be stopped. I remembered the poor man from last night, how his three sons had all been taken. _This cannot go on..._

But I had to be sure...and I had to have evidence...

I had flung my black cloak on the floor, but now I picked it up and pulled it around my shoulders. I felt sick taking the dagger when I knew the history of its maker, but I knew I would need some defence in the dark streets. Defence from strangers...and defence from those whom I thought I'd known.

So I secured it to my calf once more, pulled my boots on, and crept downstairs, out the door, and into the silent street.

*T*L*

London was cold tonight; cold and dark. Clouds and smoke shrouded the stars and suffocated the moon. I ran as best as I could tonight – I did not want my wound to open again, not when I doubted I would be welcomed back to Madame Corban's after this. I wondered if she knew...I wondered if Sebastian knew...if Lord Carlisle knew. I doubted it. They all seemed like good people. And Madame Corban had not been worried about telling me Edward's father's name. And Sebastian seemed to think that Edward was just killing nobles who hurt the poor.

I wondered who he was really killing. The people who knew about what he and his father had been doing, perhaps?

I scolded myself as I ducked in and out of shadows; I had always felt uneasy around Edward Masen. Why hadn't I followed my instincts? Why had I trusted him? Dear lord, why had I _saved _him?

I found the main road which lead to the market square. It wasn't empty. Dark, hooded figures like myself milled around. Music and shouting came from the two inns I passed. Horses and carts still clopped by. I stayed close to the side of the road, keeping to the shadows of the narrow buildings. Ghostly faces passed by, but none of them paid me much attention. With my hood covering my face, and my cloak covering my clothing, I did not seem as much of an innocent, frightened girl as I truly was, which I was glad of. There was only one person I wished to speak to on this night, and she would not see either.

I crossed the market square. Now it was empty of stalls, but all the waste of the day – rotten fruit and frayed ropes – littered the ground.

The traders' street was easy to find – one only had to follow the scent of burnt wood which still lingered, even though the day was over. I trailed down the road, being less careful now that I was getting closer. I almost missed my goal, though. It was only by the shop sign that I stopped myself.

_A M and Son._

_Sword Smiths_

Father and son. Bastards.

I frowned; the space in front of the shop was empty – just another section of muddy road. _Where is she? _Jessica had said that Mrs Maple never moved.

I gulped, suddenly feeling the proper, intelligent fear that any smart being should have being on a Cheapside of the street at this time of night. It was dark. I was alone. And the person who should have been here wasn't.

_Perhaps she is inside..._I thought. I looked up at the boards covering the shop. Worn, but still unbroken. There was a narrow gap between this shop and the next, however. Biting my lip against the fear which bubbled inside me, I pulled my cloak tighter and crept into the dark alleyway. There, in the wall, was a great, gaping hole. And it looked freshly made.

All my instincts told me to do now was run, but I could not. Instead, I clutched my skirts and climbed over the debris and into the dark workshop.

The scent of dust and burnt coal lingered in the air. All was dark. I could see the outline of an anvil, and then of the great forge, which towered above me. Chains and hammers hung from the walls. _Run, Isabella, run..._

I went in further. My shoes scuffed on the dusty floor. Every sound terrified me.

It was then that I noticed a rectangular hole in the corner – steps, leading down...

Feeling sick with inexplicable fear, I crept over to the steps. From here, I could see a faint orange light coming from underneath.

_No...this is not a good idea..._

Silently, I went down. I realized my fingers were shaking as I reached for the door knob.

_Don't do this..._

I pulled the door open.

Mrs Maple...hung from the ceiling, blood still dripping from her neck, staring right at me with bulging, blank, _dead_ eyes.

My scream only lasted a moment before someone's hand clamped over my mouth.

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	11. Chapter 11

1:40am...

I should be dreaming about making lasagne right now...(seriously, if anyone can interpret that dream, I would be much amused...perhaps I should enter Master Chef...)

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**This is certainly one of the hardest stories I've written and hearing your opinions makes all the difference!**

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Do enjoy :D

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_Groove Addicts - Wings of Glory (Because epic trailer music makes sharpening a pencil seem like saving the world!)_

_Scala - With or Without You (This is a Belgian women's choir. I'm quite picky about choir sounds...heh...but they are good!)_

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"Isabella!"

I screamed harder. Edward. _Murderer! _His arms were clamped tight around my body, his hand on my mouth.

"Isabella!" he cried again.

I bit into the soft flesh of his palm. He cursed and dropped me for only a second.

I stumbled forward into Mrs Maple. The body swung. Her dead limbs hit me. I cried out. Edward's hand snatched at my wrist. "Let go of me!" I screamed. "Let go!"

"Isabella! It's not me!" The one candle in the room only showed me his outline, his raging green eyes. "Isabella!"

I thrashed against him, "You murderer!" I spat. _The dagger! _I remembered. With my free hand, I tore the blade from my calf. My arm swung haphazardly in an arc as he pulled at me, and the blade barely cut his cheek. He swore again, but did not relent. Instead he grabbed my wrist and pressed his nails in, forcing the dagger to clatter to the ground.

"Be still, damn you!" he shouted, and then quickly brought my wrists behind my back and tugged so that I knew that in a single moment he could snap my bones.

"Bastard!" I wailed, helpless.

"I did not do this, Isabella!" Edward roared.

"Lying bastard!"

He tugged me roughly around so that I was fully facing Mrs Maple's body. "Do you think I wrote _that?"_

It was then that I saw a piece of parchment, pinned to the crone's chest with a black hilted knife.

_My Lord Masen,_

_Another one gone, and still you are no closer._

_Let your guilt be calmed, though; you needed her knowledge dead, anyway._

_For my favour, you are welcome._

"You could have written it," I croaked.

"You know I didn't," Edward breathed. His voice sounded strained.

Suddenly, hot tears began snaking down my face. I stared at Mrs Maple's eyes. She stared back, blank. "I don't understand," I whispered. A sob racked my throat. "I don't understand!"

Edward dropped my hands from his hold, and instead turned me around and pulled me to his chest.

I clasped my hands around his face and buried my face in the rough fabric of his doublet. Sobs shook my shoulders.

I felt Edward's fingers weave through my hair, cradling my head as if I were a child. "I promise I will explain everything," he murmured. "Everything I know."

I just clutched him closer still, as if without him I would simply fall to a million pieces.

"We must go," he said after only a second more.

I pulled back, "But what about...about..." I could not even say her name. But Edward nodded grimly and, leaving me, ripped the note from Mrs Maple's chest. I turned away as he began to detach Mrs Maple from the chain on which she hung.

I stared into a black corner of the room. From the way my screams had sounded, the room must have been large. In the half light, I could see chains hanging from the wall...and cuffs. What was this place?

"Isabella," Edward murmured. He had lain Mrs Maple down on the floor and covered her face with a piece of white cloth. It looked too clean and pure in a place this dark.

Shakily, I came and stood next to him. "God bless you," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Find peace."

"I am sorry," Edward said quietly to the dead woman, his voice raw with guilt. Then he took my hand and led me back up the steps, through the dark workshop and out into the frozen air of the night.

It was a relief to be outside again. A relief to be alive.

Edward's black stallion stood patiently around the corner, the breath coming from its huge nostrils was white in the air.

I hesitated, stopping in my tracks.

It was ridiculous, really, that after the night I had had I was still afraid to get on such a beast.

Edward turned, frowning. He must have remembered my previous experiences with the damned thing, for his expression softened. "He won't hurt you."

I gulped, and let him lift me up into the saddle. I realized that the last time I had been upon a horse was after I had been shot. And now, just like then, Edward swung himself up behind me and put a muscled arm around my waist. The horse whinnied and changed its footing, jogging me. But I knew I would not fall, not with Edward behind me.

I felt him kick the horse's side, "En piste!" he commanded, and we set off.

Once again, I felt as though Edward was the only thing keeping me from breaking as we road through the silent, misted streets of Southwark. I felt stiff and frozen. Like I couldn't breathe. The beat of his heart against my back, his warm breath on my neck, his strong arms holding me...he kept the horrible image of those empty eyes at bay...just.

Rain began to spatter down as we emerged onto the side of the Thames. I let it run down my face and through my hair.

It wasn't until we reached London Bridge that some more conscious part of me realized we had been taking a different route to the one I knew, but I did not ask.

We rode the in silence, the horse's clopping hooves and the patter of rain were the only sounds through the streets. We never took main roads, instead Edward navigated easily through dark alleyways and backstreets until we emerged once again onto the manicured, clean street where the Cullen Mansion presided over all the other houses, its lanterns still burning in the porch.

Edward rode around to the stables, the guard letting him without any questions and went to fetch a stable boy.

Edward lifted me off outside the doors. I did not fall this time, but simply stood there, still feeling frozen.

"Isabella," Edward said after giving his reigns to a bedraggled boy. He came round to stand in front of me, and gently hooked a finger under my chin, pulling my face up to look at him. I could only guess what he saw. Emptiness, I suppose. The same emptiness that was echoing through my whole body now. "Do you truly wish me to tell you all tonight?" he asked softly. A rain drop slid from his lip. "You have been through so much."

"I would not sleep tonight regardless," I whispered.

He studied my face sadly, and then put his arm around my waist and gently guided me through the back door. It was strange to be in a well-lit, extravagantly furnished home after my time in the Noble's House.

The scent of roses floated through the hallway, and the candles lit up the papered walls. Edward led me through to the drawing room, where only a week ago I had sat and listened to Lady Alice playing her harpsichord. The fire still crackled in the hearth, though I doubted the residents of the house were awake. I did not know the time, but it felt so very late and dark.

Only a few candles were lit in here, and so the room was bathed in warm firelight. Edward sat me down in the cushioned seat closest to the hearth.

"I will be back," Edward said to me, brushing my cheek with his finger as he left.

It was only as Edward helped me to sit that I realized that I was shaking. _Mrs Maple. Those eyes. Those _dead _eyes. _They stared at me through my memory. Haunting me.

I unclasped my cloak with trembling fingers and let it fall from my back. I had forgotten I was in my nightgown, its thin fabric giving me little warmth or dignity.

Edward returned with a maid trailing behind him, carrying a tray with two silver cups on it. She put it on the side table, bobbed a curtsy and left.

Edward saw my state of dress. Silently, he took a burgundy blanket from one of the chairs and gently put it around my shoulders.

I looked down as his hands slid along the fabric, even though it was hardly a touch.

Then he took one of the cups and handed it to me. It was mulled wine, it seemed. "Drink," he said.

I did not wish to, but I knew well enough by now not to deny him. I put the cup to my lips and sipped. The liquid flooded warmth through my body.

"You should not have had to see that," Edward said quietly, pulling up a chair to sit in front me.

"You see it all the time," I whispered, staring at the wine.

He nodded, "I do."

"Do you not feel sick with yourself?" I could not keep the venom from my voice, even when I had had no intention of it being there. I looked up.

His eyes met my gaze, pained and honest, "Every second of every day, Isabella."

I bit my lip, looking away again. "So why, then?" I asked quietly.

Edward sighed, "Oh, if I could only keep you pure and innocent of all this."

"But I am not," I said.

He gazed at me sadly, "Indeed you are not..." he hesitated, and then leaned forward. "Isabella, I do not know what you will wish to do once you know everything. And I would not stop you if you wished to leave this damned place and never see London again. But I must beg of you one thing, Isabella; you must never tell anyone what I am now going to tell you. Not for me," he said. "God knows that I do not deserve anything from you. But for those under my protection who would suffer if the truth was found out."

I stared into my cup for a moment, and then looked at him, "I will do what is right."

Edward gave me a dark look for a second, and I wondered if perhaps he would refuse to tell me now. But then he sat back, "I should have known you would say that. You are more honourable than your station requires of you."

I said nothing.

He took his cup of wine from the tray and started tracing his finger around the rim – that curious habit I had noted on my first night here. He began, "The Masen family has been noble for a long time. We've never been high up, though some of us would have wished we were. It is hard to break through the tight circles of the upper court, though."

Edward looked away distastefully, "My father, though, was good at such things. He developed contacts, made deals, wormed his way into power. We were reaching higher, coming closer and closer to the Queen's inner circle when one day my father said something which wasn't to her liking. In the Queen's usual way she reacted harshly. We lost all our lands, our houses, our money. And we had no one to help us. My Lady Esme, my father's sister, was already married to Carlisle, and he had never liked my father. He refused to help. Said there were worthier causes. And so we lost everything."

"So you became poor?" I said, finally understanding it all. "That's why you help the poor and – "

"No, Isabella," he stopped me, shaking his head. "If only it had been so romantic and simple...so very _right. _But no. My father was left enough money to have one home of a reasonable size. But there was no way he could make any more money to make his way back into the Queen's company. So he used the money instead to buy a sword smiths."

"Anthony Masen and his son," I muttered.

Edward nodded, "Quite right." He pulled out something from his belt – the dagger, I realized. He spun it between his fingers, watching as the engraving blurred. "It was one of the few blades I ever made."

"_You _made?" I asked.

Edward looked at me with a dry smile, "Of course. My father was above that kind of work. He found the money to hire someone to teach me how, and then sat up in the chambers above the shop and drank himself into oblivion."

"That's...impressive," I said, gazing at the blade. _Made by those hands..._

My Lord laughed, "It took me a while. And this blade – " he tapped the black leather hilt of his broadsword. "Took almost the entire year we were in that house for."

"Only a year?"

He nodded, looking into the firelight, "You see, perhaps six months after our fall from grace, this girl knocked on the door. I was in the back of the shop, working on your dagger, but I heard some sort of argument going on between her and my father. I looked out, but only for a moment." Edward suddenly put his head in his hand. "She was so skinny, so frail...and she was only twelve, if not younger. _Too _young. All I know is that I heard her cry and then the basement door slamming shut."

_The basement where Mrs Maple's body is now lying..._

"My father came upstairs to me, and told me that I was not to go down to the basement. That there was a person in there who he was deciding what to do with and that I was not allowed to interact with in any way. Vermin, he called her."

"And did you?" I asked. My cup was cradled against my chest now, my chin resting on the silver rim. "Did you save her?"

Edward shut his eyes, a vein in his jaw popping out, "No." His voice sounded racked with pain. He looked at me, "I did nothing. I followed my father's orders, and didn't go near the basement. Even when I heard her weeping. I did nothing." He looked away. "And then one day, maybe three days afterward, she was just gone. And that night we dined well, with wine and peacock, when all we'd had for months had been mead and stale bread."

"Edward," I whispered, scared for what I would next hear.

He gave a shaky breath, "And from there on, we dined well almost every night. And more people started coming to the sword smith. I don't know why – the promise of free ale was what I heard one man say as my father led him in. I heard the cellar door open often after that. More and more often. My father eventually told me to stop making swords and daggers – he said we did not need them anymore."

"You did not ask why?" I said.

"No," Edward replied. "My father was not to be questioned. Ever. You understand, Isabella...I had been brought up this way. To only observe and learn. To never disobey. And to never question. We were nobility – far above these rats my father locked up. Aside from the sword smith I had been taught by, who was a pretty rough man himself, I had had no interaction with these people. I trusted my father to know which people mattered in the world and which people didn't."

"But – " I began.

"I did not say it was an excuse, Isabella," Edward said. "But it is the truth."

I looked down, knowing his words were fair, "Forgive me," I said quietly. "I am wrong to judge what I do not understand."

Edward looked at me, his emerald eyes calm, "You are not to be blamed for thinking badly of me, Isabella. I feel sick with myself over my lack of morals...my lack of caring for my own race. But I knew nothing else. It was only the girl who stayed in my mind. Because I saw her...and she was so young." He cleared his throat, pushing back the pain in his eyes.

"Anyway, I stayed in the back of the shop. I had finished my sword, and I trained with it. I knew very little in the way of sword fighting, but it did not matter when I spent so much time with it. It blotted out the noise of the people who came through. And there were so many by that point..."

Edward took another swig of wine and put his cup down on the tray. "And then one day my father told me to pack up my belongings – that we had a house once more. The one they now call the Noble's House, though I believe at the time it was called Durberry. I found out later that my father had been careful – there was no way you could trace his name back to that house. That's why it is now perfect for my own use. But then it was because if things went amiss, he wanted a hiding place where he wouldn't be found.

"From that time onward, I was out of what was happening. I had no knowledge of any goings on. Only that we were getting richer. And then lords began visiting. All my father told me was that they were there to do business with him, and that I was not to disturb them. I began to spend time with my aunt, Lady Esme, and then more with Lord Carlisle himself, who spoke to me long about the faults of society."

He traced the carving on the side of the chair's arm. "It was a night in midwinter when I finally found out the truth. My father had had to make an unexpected trip out of town. The lords he had been dealing with had managed to sweet talk the Queen into reinstating us, and he was out fixing up our estate. And so I was alone in the house when Lord Golding came knocking."

"Lord Golding?" I repeated, frowning. "He was the one in the Swan..."

Edward nodded, "The world could not miss that bastard. But at the time, he was my father's friend – to be feared and respected. He went into the drawing room and began drinking my father's wine. As he drunk more and more his fat tongue became looser and looser, and he began to speak of my father's doings. The amount of money he was bringing in. The number of 'exports'..."

Abruptly, Edward stood up and went to the fire, putting his hand upon the mantel piece. His knuckles grew white with the tension. "I will never forget his words," he said, his head bowed, his anguished eyes lit by the flames. "'Good thing your sister was there to give him the idea.'"

I froze in my seat. "'Sister,'" I whispered. _No...oh God no..._ "The girl..."

Edward nodded, his body rigid. "My own _sister. _It was my own sister who walked into the shop that day. My own sister who had been arguing with my father. Who he threw in the basement and _sold_." His breaths were loud and heavy now, "And I did nothing. My _sister."_

"Edward," I breathed, and rose from my seat. Tentatively, I touched his hand. It released its grip on the stone. Gently, I reached up to touch his cheek. I heard his breath slow and I turned his face to mine. I fixed my gaze with his, much like he had done to me so many times. "It was not your fault," I said quietly. "This was not your fault."

"How can it not be?" he replied. "When I could have prevented it."

I shook my head, keeping my hand on his cheek, his stubble scratching my palm. "You were a boy, and you knew nothing else. Like you just said."

"She was my _blood, _Isabella," he said. "My kin. It is different."

"No," I whispered. "Not when you didn't know."

"I should have," he muttered savagely, moving away from me. My hand dropped limply to my side. "It was so obvious – Anthony Masen's bastard daughter coming to his door and begging for money when she was on death's door. No wonder my father hid her. _Bastard!" _he spat, suddenly slamming his hand into the top of the chair. I stepped back.

He slowed then, and took a deep breath, looking at me, "Forgive me," he said softly. "I did not mean to act so." He gave me a dry smile. "You have hardly seen the gentlemanly courtier in me, my Lady."

"You needn't show it to me," I said. "I am not a lady. Just a very fortunate orphan."

"I suppose that makes two of us," Edward said, gesturing for me to sit again. He did, too, though I could see the rigidity was still there.

"Your father died of a disease?" I recalled.

He frowned, "Who told you that?"

"Lady Alice," I said.

Edward nodded, "That would explain it. I would never want her to know. I can save her from this darkness, at least." He took a breath and stroked his jaw, "After Golding had said that, I plied him to tell me more. He did not reveal anything, though; he just laughed at me and told me not to look so stricken – bastards were mistakes only redeemed by their dispensability."

Suddenly any sickness I had for Edward murdering that man left me. He was not worthy of life.

"My father returned home shortly after Golding left," Edward said. His hands clutched the arms of the chair now. "I confronted him in the drawing room – threw him down into a chair and put my sword to his throat and demanded he told me where we were getting the money from."

It took very little imagination to see a younger Edward in a better-furnished version of the drawing room – more like the one we sat in now – holding his blade to an unattractive, horrible man's neck. This image...it did not repel me as it should have done. For I knew that had I been a boy in such a situation, I would have done the same thing.

"He was calmer than I thought he'd be," Edward said, his eyes deep in memory. "He easily told me of how he had been stealing people off the streets of London and shipping them away to foreign countries. The men turned into labourers, the women and girls into prostitutes."

"A slave trade?" I breathed. "But I thought it was only from Africa...who would buy English slaves?"

"You would be surprised. English are some sort of a delicacy to other countries. A woman's fair skin makes her more desirable in brothels overseas. Men can be used as soldiers or labourers. And they are far less expensive than slaves from Africa when you need only sail them across the Channel and into Europe.

"Into _Europe?" _I repeated.

Edward nodded, "Do not presume that Europeans are any less barbaric than those of the New World, Isabella. They want the cheapest labour possible. They might not be low enough to enslave their own countrymen, but the English are hated by many. And my father_ was _low enough. He realized a trade far more lucrative and cheaper than trading crops or materials. He laughed as he said how he couldn't believe no one else had thought of it.

"London is a pool of free bodies, Isabella, all ripe for the taking. No one will miss them – no one with any power – and they don't put up much of a fight, such is their strength. It is like leaving a field full of fur coats for anyone to take."

"But how did he transport them?" I asked. "Surely people must have noticed?"

"Yes," Edward said. "The right people, though. The Lords who became his circle of contacts. From what little information I have uncovered since, my father sold the first instalments to foreign, illegal traders upon the Thames. They had no quarrels transporting slaves – I can only guess that they were already importing illegal goods anyway. But eventually the Lord who ran the port at the time found out. Lord Gurchison."

"Oh," I said quietly. The man who Edward had killed on my first night here.

"He had been having issues with the Poor Laws at court, and he found my father's trade a perfect solution to rid his port of the poor. He allowed my father to smuggle them onto ships providing he took as many poor as possible from the port, to lower the amount of tax Gurchison was having to pay. And then more Lords heard of my father's services – here and abroad. I know that there is an earl in the New World who requested a shipment of British slaves for his new plantation – he didn't trust the foreign slaves, apparently. I found the letter in my father's office shortly after..." he stopped, his jaw going taut.

"After?" I asked, unable to contain myself. A whole new, dark world had just been revealed to me. Right here, in the heart of London.

Edward was standing again. "I asked him about my sister," he said quietly, staring into the flames of the fire. "His daughter. I asked him what had happened to her. He laughed." Edward hissed out a breath, his chest rising and falling heavily.

"He _laughed. _And told me many things had probably happened to her. She had been his first sale. She had found out he was her father and had come begging for food. Having no money, the last thing he needed was a little girl who by law he was meant to feed. So he had locked her in the basement while he'd worked out what to do. He said he'd walked by the docks, and joked with one of the traders about him having any use for a little girl..." Edward seemed to choke on his words. "He asked if she was a...a virgin."

"Oh my Lord," I whispered.

"My plate and cup were filled by the rape of my sister," Edward spat. "And my father did not care. After he had told me of her sale, he just looked at me and said 'At least the bitch was worth something.'"

Edward stilled. It was eerie...his fist relaxed, and he looked at me, his eyes almost blank, except for a slight feel of...haunting. "That," he said quietly. "Was when I stabbed him."

"You...you killed him?" my words tripped over one another.

Edward nodded, "And as the blood poured out from that cold, shit-filled heart, he looked at me and...he almost looked like a real father."

Edward dropped back down in his chair, looking defeated, confused...a boy again. A boy who had just taken his father's life. "And then he smiled...the kind of caring smile my mother had a long, long time ago. As if he loved me. And everything, everything he just told me was forgotten and he was just the one person I had ever trusted. And he just whispered 'Your brother will take care of you'...and then he died."

The fire crackled in the hearth.

Questions cried out in my mind, but my lips did not speak.

"I do not know where such a brother is," Edward said eventually, shifting in his seat. "I do not even know if he exists. If my father was just delirious. But it is not unlikely that he made more than one bastard." Edward gave a bitter laugh, "In fact, I can think of nothing more likely. But I will never know. I could find no trace of him. I suspect that he was sold – that seems like the easiest way to rid oneself of bastards these days."

"And your sister?" I asked tentatively.

Edward shook his head, "I do not even know her name. I have tried to find the trader who shipped her off, but my father knew how to cover his tracks. Even if I did know which ship she left on, I would have no clue where she was, or if she even survived the voyage."

"I'm so sorry," I whispered.

He looked up at me from his hunched position. "I am not deserving of any pity, Isabella. However much good I do, however many lives I save...it will never balance the scales against my passiveness when hundreds of people were being crammed into that basement and being sold. I did nothing. And now it has started again, and again I have done nothing that has been any help."

"So that is why you are killing nobles," I said. It felt like years since I asked that question. "They are your father's associates..."

Edward nodded, "Once I heard reports of the disappearances starting again, it was if my father had returned, as if somehow he had lived. The way they are conducted is too similar. Youths and younger adults being targeted. The prettier women. The disappearances being in crowded places, where one would assume one was safe. The taking of multiple family members...and none of them, none of them ever returning. These are not muggings or rapes or hostages. These are mass kidnappings. Just like my father."

Edward sighed, "The only people who know of my father's scheming other than me and Carlisle are the lords my father had once made deals with."

"One of them is the Snatcher?"

"Yes," he said. "But I have killed many already and still the snatching continues. So all I can do is keep killing...until I stop whoever is imitating my father."

I gazed at the man before me. The man people called the 'Noble Killer'. _He is noble, _I realized. _He is noble even if he does not realize it. Even if events long passed keep him from feeling anything but guilt._

"You should go," Edward said, rising from his chair. "I make you stay when you must have no wish to be near me."

"Edward," I said quietly, standing. "I am sorry – "

"Isabella, I already said – "

"No," I whispered. "Do not silence me, for I wish you to hear my words." I watched him as he looked me up and down, surprised by my stubbornness. I swallowed, feeling my mouth go dry, "I am sorry for what I have said to you. Every stupid, uneducated word which has left my lips since I met you. I have called you a criminal when that is what you least are. I have cursed you and insulted you and brought you so close to death a number of times..." with a rush of pain, I realized just how close that had been. How _stupid _I had been.

"I could have ruined everything you have worked for, every life you have saved. I accused you of crimes that were your father's alone. Crimes that you are trying to rectify."

"Isabella – "

"I know you think that the scales would never balance after all the bad that has happened around you. But how can your scales be worse than mine, when I have spent my entire life in safety and warmth and never done a thing for anyone else?" I took a step toward him. "You are a good person. You are a good person in a world of selfish, single-minded people. You do good and you do not ask for anything in return. You are so good that you do not even think of yourself as so and – "

"Isabella," his voice was more powerful this time. Suddenly, his hands were holding my wrists, clasping them between us. His eye burned emerald bright. "You do not know what you speak of."

"But I do now," I said forcefully. "You cannot hide this from me any longer. You cannot allow me to confirm all your beliefs any longer."

"Isabella..." He breathed. And then his lips...his lips were on mine, warm and strong. I gasped. He let go of my wrists, instead putting his hands tight around my waist. My arms slid up and around his neck, the blanket falling to the ground. Our mouths danced against each other, and my heart swelled, almost to breaking point. So much emotion...inexplicable and glorious. Edward's fingers wove into my loose hair, pulling us even closer together.

"Edward," I heard myself sigh, my voice hardly recognizable.

"My love..."

That word...it seemed to awaken me, as much as it made my heart thud faster in ecstasy.

Edward pulled back as I did. We stared at each other, both our chests rising and falling quickly. I could not bring myself to look away from those emerald eyes, from their dark green depths. I knew his look echoed my own. Surprise...and discovery. Like nothing I had ever felt before...nothing...

There was a knock on the door.

I had been unaware that I had been clutching Edward's arms, but now my hands dropped as the door opened to admit Master Jacob Black, dressed in that same slightly-too-small jerkin I had seen him in last week...when I had been shot...

"Isabella!" he exclaimed, coming towards us as if nothing was out of the ordinary...as if my lips weren't swollen and my hair dishevelled...but perhaps that was just me feeling it. "You've returned!"

"Master Black," I said, bobbing in a curtsy which his station did not demand, but I felt incredibly apologetic. As if I had just committed a great sin...

He paused, stopping right between me and where Edward stood – from the corner of my eye, I saw he had frozen – and then laughed, his young eyes so carefree. "You needn't call me that anymore, my love."

Those two words were tossed in so easily that I simply stared at him. _Who does he believe himself to be? We have barely met..._

Master Black realized my confusion, "Oh," he said, glancing between me and Edward. "I assumed you knew..." he stopped at Edward. "I thought you were going to tell her?"

"'Tell me?'" I repeated, looking at Edward. "Tell me what?"

"Miss Swan..." Edward returned to his formal name for me. But his voice was racked with something close to regret, that and pain.

But Jacob Black cheerfully butted in, "Earlier today my Lord agreed to be my best man and even pay!"

I froze, "What for?" _Oh Lord...Oh sweet God..._

Master Black beamed at me and took my hands in his, "For our wedding, my Lady!"

* * *

**Please review and tell me what you think! Your opinions are, as always, invaluable!**

Hope you enjoyed :D Pas de Trois should be up soon! Have a good one!


	12. Chapter 12

Hello!

Well...it's been a while, to say the least.

But here's Chapter Twelve and Thirteen is soon to follow - all finished! :D

**Thank you so much for all your reviews!**

**Honestly, this has been an insane few months and I wouldn't have kept going if it hadn't been for you guys, so thanks!**

So, without further ado, please review and enjoy!

* * *

"I beg you excuse me," I choked, pulling my hands from Master Black's. I brushed past Edward as I made for the door. I felt sick as his scent, so familiar, assailed me. I could not look at him, though. I fled the room and hurried up the stairs, careless of the house's sleeping inhabitants.

_Engaged. Engaged to a man I hardly know! And paid for by that bastard himself!_

The door to my room shut loudly behind me. I flung myself upon the bed, my mind in a frenzy. How...when had this happened? How could it have happened when I was not here? When I had absolutely no say? I understood a daughter's duties to wed for the good of the family. That she need not have a choice, just wealth at the end. But I was an orphan. I had no father to make such decisions for me.

"_My Lord agreed to be my best man and even pay!"_

And so Lord Edward had made the decision for me, on my father's behalf. _What right does he think he has? _I thought angrily, my fingers clutching the bedspread. How could he think it was simply his right to choose a husband for me?

_Because he's the Noble! _My mind answered. _Because he always does what he wants! He always _gets _what he wants! And gets rid of those he doesn't want..._

There was a knock on the door, "Isabella?"

I bit my lip, anger boiling over in me. Edward. How dare he think I would wish to speak to him now? How dare he think I would ever wish to speak to him again?

"Isabella, please allow me to explain..." I stayed silent, trying to ignore his calm, steady voice. _He does not even care that much..._and yet somehow I knew that his brow would be creased now, his fist probably clenched against the wood of the door.

Frustratedly, I cleared my mind of such an image. It was not helping.

"Isabella, please," he repeated.

I locked my lips shut and curled my body into a ball, pulling the bedding up over me. Deep inside, I knew the real reason why I did not wish to face Lord Edward right now. It was not because I did not wish to shout and scream at him – I would have loved nothing more – but because only a few minutes earlier we had..._embraced...kissed..._and surely, surely he must have read my reaction enough to realize that I had been fooled by him. That I had let him – _wanted _him to kiss me. How could I face him? After I had been such a fool! After I had shown him my hand in what was obviously just a game to him. I had _kissed _him! When he already knew I was soon to be a married woman!

"Damn you!" I hissed into my pillow, my hand slamming against the mattress. My wound stung at the movement. _I took a bullet for you and now you hand me off to another man! _

I hated the tears that began to wet the white linen, but I could not stop them.

*T*L*

Sleep took me eventually, and I woke but once, just as the sound of a familiar tread faded down the corridor. _He was waiting, _I thought, half returned to my dreams. _He was waiting for me..._

*T*L*

Morning came with a knock on the door. "Miss Isabella?"

My eyes flickered open to Miranda's voice. "Come in," I said. My voice felt rough, a product of my crying last night, no doubt.

Miranda entered, in the same maid's garb she always had worn. The last time I had seen her was the night I had gone to the Swan. When she'd clutched her cross in her palm and told me I was better to not come back at all if Edward was died.

"Lady Esme requests your presence in the breakfast room," she hesitated, her face looking vulnerable for once. "That is – if you are well enough."

I just nodded and stood to let her dress me. My mind felt oddly quiet. As if I had accepted the fact that no choice was or ever had been my own. I was to be married to Jacob Black. That had been decided. I was too tired to dispute it. So tired...

Miranda was helping me into a clean shift when she gasped.

I frowned and followed her gaze down to the reddened wound on my ribs. It was still a little swollen, but it was beginning to heal.

"Does it – "Miranda whispered. "Does it hurt?"

I blinked at her, and then seeing her stricken face I realized the guilt she felt. "No," I lied softly. "It is tolerable."

Miranda looked at me, those bold eyes showing more worry than hate for once. "I am sorry, my Lady."

"There is nothing to be sorry for," I said quickly, then looked away, and she continued dressing me in silence. I did not want such a bond of debt with a servant. Especially not when it _had _been entirely my fault that the Guard had known about Edward. I wanted nothing more than to forget what had happened...and to forget that kiss...

I hardly remembered the dresses Madame Tulle had made for me, but I thought I recognized this one amongst them – the simplest one, pale blue with light gold flowers stitched into the bodice. I liked it, for pale colours were demure. Pale colours showed my pale life. My weak, feminine ways. My patheticness.

It was with that thought, stone cold in my chest, that I descended the stair and entered the breakfast room.

"Miss Isabella!" Alice exclaimed, standing up from her place at the table and bouncing toward me. "You've returned!"

My breath stilled as she threw her arms around me and my ribs stung with pain.

"Alice," Lady Esme scolded, concern in her eyes. "Such an attack is not proper. Allow Miss Isabella to sit."

Alice withdrew, but she still grinned at me, "Oh, it's been deathly boring without you! Where have you been?"

I glanced at Lady Esme as one of the servants pushed my chair in for me.

"Alice, your father told you not to ask questions. Miss Isabella is very tired."

I gave Lady Esme an appreciative smile. She nodded at me with unexpected respect.

Breakfast was served and the three of us ate. I briefly wondered where Rosalie was, but then I realized, "Has the Lady Rosalie begun her lying-in?"

"Oh yes," Alice said, clapping her hands. "It's all very exciting. She's expecting very soon. I can't wait to have another niece or nephew."

"Soon you will have children of your own, child," Lady Esme reminded her.

In all the action of the past week, I was ashamed to have forgotten Alice's marriage to Lord Jasper. Now, she seemed to turn a little paler.

_She isn't ready, _I thought. And then my thoughts darkened further as I realized that I too would soon be expected to have children.

_Jacob Black's children..._I would have to lay with him.

I dropped my fork abruptly, realizing the enormity of what Edward had forced me in to.

"Are you well, Isabella?" Lady Esme asked, looking at me with almost motherly concern.

"I am fine," I breathed, wishing it were true.

She frowned, "I shall have our own physician see to you at some point."

"No," I said abruptly. "No – there can be no questions asked."

Lady Esme realized my meaning and nodded, turning back to her food. It was certainly not normal for a physician to examine a woman with a bullet wound.

"Questions asked about what?" Alice asked, frustrated at not understanding.

"Eat up, child," Lady Esme instructed. "Master Abrego will be here soon."

Master Abrego turned out to be Lady Alice's dance instructor and good friend. He was an eccentric Italian, with a pointed beard and colourful garb. He greeted the two ladies with kisses to the hand and then turned to me. "Ah, and who is this gorgeous lady?"

"Miss Isabella," Lady Esme introduced.

"Ah," he said with a grin, kissing my knuckles. "A name from my land. And will you be dancing with us today, Miss Isabella?"

Lady Esme turned to me, "I thought it might be good to get some practise before..." she gave me a look. I swallowed. So she knew. It really was true...and official.

"Of course," I said, trying to be gracious. Lady Esme nodded and left.

"Ah, good, good," Master Abrego said, and clapped his hands. "But we shall have to find you a boy!"

"Would I be adequate?"

I glanced up. Master Black himself stood in the doorway, dressed in another one of his ill-fitted doublets, this time a dark blue. He smiled at me, his young eyes shining as if he wasn't about to steal my life. But he wasn't to know that I had stupidly, _stupidly _cared for another man. That I was foolish enough not to want the stability and warmth he would provide.

"And you are?" Master Abrego asked.

"Jacob Black," he said with a smile. They shook hands.

"Perfect!" the Italian exclaimed. "You shall go with the beautiful Isabella and I shall go with the stunning Lady Alice. Are we not in fine company, my friend?"

Jacob glanced at me and smiled, "We are indeed."

Master Abrego laughed and signalled for his lute boy to begin.

Jacob came to stand next to me. "Good morning, my dear," he said as he bowed to me.

"Good morning," I said stiffly, curtsying.

"And now we all turn forward!" Master Abrego instructed between his lively chatter with Alice.

I raised my palm so that it was flat against Jacob's.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I am well," I said, frowning as we stepped forward. It was a dull dance, but one of the few that I had been taught in Norfolk. "Why would I be otherwise?"

We stepped backward. "After that night at that theatre," Jacob said, staring ahead. "Lord Carlisle told me you had returned to Norfolk to sort out your family affairs, but I saw you gravely injured..."

"I was not," I said quickly. I had forgotten how I had threatened him with Edward's dagger...how he had been waiting outside for the whole ordeal. "It was just an accident."

"And who was that man?" Jacob said as we turned in a circle. "That man carrying you – was he truly the Noble Killer?"

"He – "

Through the open door to the corridor, Edward stepped into view. My grip on Jacob's hand tightened. He looked so striking, a black jerkin with seams of gold clung to his chest, and a pure white chemise hung from his arms. You would not think him one to interact with the poor. You would not think him one to give away women who weren't his to give, either.

"Isabella?" Jacob's voice entered my ears. "You must tell me such things now. We are to be married. You need not hide anything from me."

Edward turned and met my gaze then. He froze.

"Isabella?" Jacob pressed.

Swallowing, I tried to ignore everything that had happened last night and looked meaningfully from Edward to Jacob, trying to tell him that I needed an out – Jacob was asking too much. It took Edward only a moment to realize.

He strode into the room. Master Abrego paused, "Ah, my Lord Masen! It is good to see you! It has been years."

"Surely not that long, my friend," Edward said with a smile, clapping the Italian on the back.

"Oh Edward," Alice said. "Come and dance with us!" She turned to Jacob and me, "Edward is a fantastic dancer – mother always said he had natural rhythm!"

Edward looked at her fondly, "Dear cousin you wrongly flatter. Besides, I only came to tell Master Jacob here that I have organised a time at the tailor's. If you leave now you should get there on time."

"Oh," Jacob said, seeming a little disappointed. He recovered quickly, though. "Well, thank you very much."

Jacob turned to me and spoke so that only I could hear, "We will finish this later, my love." He put a hand to my cheek. I tried hard not to flinch. "Please promise me you will be careful – there are bad people here in London." He ran a thumb across my cheekbone, his eyes worried. "I don't want you to get hurt."

I almost felt like laughing. _Too late, dear, far too late for that. _"Of course," I said, trying to contain myself.

All humour drained away, though, as he leaned down and kissed me fully on the lips. He tasted of ale and whatever he'd had for breakfast. I stayed frozen as he held us together, just wondering how long this was to go on for. Finally he let me go and strode out the front door, his worries lifted.

I could not help but glance at Edward. He stood stock still. His face was carefully blank, but I saw his fist clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"So!" Master Abrego said. "I really must insist now that you join us, my Lord, or this beauty here will be left without a partner."

It took Edward a moment to snap out of his tense position. He blinked, and then looked at me closely as he answered, "Perhaps I shall join for a couple of reels, then, Master Abrego."

His eyes never left mine.

Remembering my anger at him, I imitated his stare, not breaking contact as I said with feigned politeness, "Actually, Lady Alice is by far the better dancer, you should go with her. Besides, I believe my footing was wrong on that last step and I could use Master Abrego's instruction."

Edward's gaze turned stormy as he saw that, like last night, I was not going to let him speak to me so easily.

"A good idea, Miss Isabella," Master Abrego said, and quickly joined me with a smile. With one final, hard stare at me, Edward stepped in next to Alice.

The music began again and we all began the steps forward, palm to palm.

"How goes your singing, cousin?" Edward asked, loud enough for me to hear.

"Well, thank you," Alice answered, pleased to be quizzed on it. "Emmett found me some new music in St. Pauls. I just wish mother would listen – it's just her taste."

"Yes," Edward replied evenly. "It is frustrating when people refuse to listen, is it not?"

"Indeed," Alice said.

"Even if it is not to her liking," Edward said. "She should still hear you out first."

We spun, switching sides so that Master Abrego was now on my right.

"That is exactly what I have been saying to her!" Alice exclaimed, totally unaware. "But she does not understand."

Edward leaned in a little, though his whisper was plain for all to hear, "Personally, I think it's her lack of musical experience in her that makes her afraid."

Alice giggled.

"Excuse me," I said stiffly, turning to Master Abrego. "I think I need some air."

Without any more words, I tore out of the room, feeling so very sick.

I followed the corridor and eventually it lead to a door out into the gardens.

I gasped in the air, cold despite the warming sun, and walked until I found myself in a little grass square surrounded by roses and hidden from view of the house. There, I paced quickly back and forth, my skirts trailing on the ground. _That bastard...how mocking! How cruel! Truly he is nothing but a rude, arrogant, ignorant – _

A hand grabbed my wrist.

"Isabella."

I spun around to see him standing tall and handsome above me. In a rush of anger, I wrenched my wrist from his grasp and lashed out, my palm stinging with a satisfying 'thwack' as it hit his cheek.

"Bastard!" I spat, just before I realized exactly what I'd done. _I just hit a noble...I could go to jail for this...I could lose a finger..._

Edward slowly brought a hand up to his cheek, which was a violent red on his marble-like features. He turned to look at me in surprise and...almost a little awe. "Good God, wherever did you learn how to do that?"

"It doesn't take much teaching when one's _cheek_ so begs for it," I said through gritted teeth, though my anger was being matched by my fear. A woman is not to just hit a man, ever.

But Edward seemed unaware of such things. "Ah, so we are playing on our words now, are we?"

"You mocked me in the hall and now you mock me here?" I said, turning away from him, arms folded tightly over each other.

I felt him step closer to me, "Isabella, you must let me explain."

"What is there to explain?" I whispered coldly. "You've paid a man – a _boy _to wed me and bed me and take me far away from what little 'family' I have and you did not even have the courtesy to tell me!"

He sighed, "Isabella, I – "

But something in me snapped then, and I realized I could not keep to my own courtesy any longer.

I spun around sharply on my heel to glare at him, "And what's more," I seethed, feeling my hands shake at my sides. "Is that you thought you might kiss me, too! As if you not only owned my hand to give away as you please but my damned lips as well!"

I saw the fury grow in his eyes even as I stepped closer. "As if you should have any ownership over me! As if you should control any person who's here below God! You believe you have the rights to this whole damned city, don't you? Every blasted pauper and monarch of London should be yours to order around and control!"

"Stop," he commanded, in a tone which I could not deny. He stared down at me, emerald eyes flaming. "You wonder, Miss Swan," he said softly. "Why I decided to ensure Master Black would take you away from here? After all the issues and _death_ you have caused me and my people?" He stepped toward me now, towering so great above me. "After all the times you have endangered us all? All the times you've run off and done your own prissy thing because you believe in your own judgements and no one else's? You let my men fight for you at the Swan that night and two of them, both husbands and one a father, died for you!"

"After I saved you from the Sheriff's bullet!" I snapped, but my mind was swirling. What were that father's children doing now? _Sweet God, I made them lose their father..._

"After you tipped me off to him in the first place!" he snarled back. "All you have done is ruined what we have taken so long to build! Taken lives which did not deserve to be taken!"

I should have silenced myself there. I should have accepted what was so very true...but I didn't.

"I've taken lives, you say?" I whispered, my voice like ice. "And what of you, _Lord _Edward Masen? What of your toll? How many innocent lives did you watch go down into that basement and did nothing?"

He recoiled, and I saw that haunted look return to his eyes – the one I had seen last night.

But now I felt little mercy; just sickness. How could someone do that? Stand by and let such monstrosities happen?

"Marry me to Master Black," I whispered, my hands shaking as I gathered my skirts. "And I will leave you to your games as Noble."

He stood stock still as I brushed past him and out of the rose garden, a pain in me that was from no wound, but an ache deep in my chest which I barely understood.

*T*L*

"Miss Isabella! My lady!"

I woke with a start, not knowing I had even fallen asleep upon the book I had been reading. There was a sharp knock on my door.

"Come in," I said confusedly, standing up and trying to straighten myself.

Sebastian entered, his face flushed with running, "It's the girl, my lady."

"What?" I repeated.

"The girl with child," Sebastian said. "The babe is coming and they're asking for the Noble Lady."

I gulped, remembering the girl, "What? I know nothing of childbirth."

"No," Sebastian said frustratedly. "We have Madame Corban, but they need you. As a blessing...she's not coping."

I looked around, not understanding, "I do not think the Noble would be happy..."

"But these are women," Sebastian said. "And she asked for you."

"_I will leave you to your games as Noble."_

But surely this was different? And it would not happen again...and I remembered the girl sitting desolately in the corner. If she needed me...

"I'll come."

* * *

:D Ah, deary me.

So my absence has mainly been due to crazy work and performances and such.

However, I did go to South Africa! It is a beautiful, beautiful country with so much culture and, most importantly for me, singing! Everyone can sing! It's crazy!

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and please review! **

**Next chapter will be up by tomorrow night at the latest!**


	13. Chapter 13

Hello, hello!

So nice to be posting again :D

**Thank you SO MUCH! Your reviews were so heartwarming to read - they made a world of difference.**

**I am so sorry for having such a huge gap, but thanks for showing your support! It's amazing!**

****And so, without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

_Adagio for Strings - __Samuel Barber (Musical genius...I mean, really! You have got to hear it if you haven't!)_

_The Flying Theme - John Powel (How to Train Your Dragon? AWESOME!)_

* * *

Quickly, I grabbed my cloak from where it hung on the wardrobe and tied it around my shoulders. "Take me to them."

It did not take long to reach the Noble's House this time. The roads were near empty and Sebastian, though he did not ride with the terrifying speed my Lord did, was a fast rider. It felt strange having my arms around Sebastian's skinny waist and not the strength of Edward's body. The security I had somehow built for riding on these damned beasts was lost without him and the ride, whilst short, was not pleasant.

"Are you sure the Noble will not mind?" I asked as we rode down the street to the house.

He shrugged his shoulders in front of me, "As my father always says 'there are some things men should just not enter into'. A birthing room is one of 'em."

I blushed. _What sort of help will _I _be?_

Sebastian stopped outside the door and helped me off.

As we entered into the familiarly dark corridor there was a cry from a door at the end.

"Oh Lord," I whispered.

We went past the drawing room, which was quieter than usual, to the door. Sebastian turned to me, his face as nervous as mine, "Good luck."

And then he left me. _Boys..._I thought sardonically, then knocked on the door as the girl cried out again.

Knowing they would probably be too busy to hear, I slipped in, shutting the door behind me. The long, narrow room seemed to be a dormitory, with bunks lining the walls. The only part that was lit was the left end, where Madame Corban and three other women were moving about. Their brows were sweating, their sleeves pushed up. Madame Corban's arms were covered with blood.

I caught a glimpse of the girl as one of the women moved. She lay on a lower bunk in the poor light, her face red with pain and tears.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed back my hood and went to her. The other women only had time to glance my way. "Thank goodness you're here, my lady," said one of them, wringing out a bloodied cloth.

I nodded and knelt down by the girl, unsure what to do.

"You must push, child," Madame Corban said from the end of the bunk. "The babe will not come out on its own."

"No!" the girl mumbled, tears streaming from her cheeks. "It is too much!"

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the girl's sweating hand. "You can do it," I said quietly. She turned her head to look at me, her eyes frenzied like a spooked horse.

"My lady," she sobbed, squeezing my hand. "Why are you _here?"_

"To help you. And Isabella," I said. "That is my name. What is yours?"

"Vera," she whispered, then writhed. "Stop it! Stop it now!"

"It will not be stopped," Madame Corban said. "You must fight."

"No," the girl wept, her eyes searching for mine again. I brushed the hair from her wet forehead. "It hurts too much. It hurts so much!"

"Vera," I said quietly. "You must keep going, you must keep pushing. It is the way it has to be."

"No!" she cried. "Make it stop!"

"Vera!" I fought to regain her attention, the women around me hurrying back and forth in the half light with towel and basins.

"She must help or the child in her will die!"

I put a hand to her cheek, "Vera," I said urgently. "Do you want your child to live?"

"Yes!" she groaned. "But not here! Not in this s-stew!"

I frowned, pulling back to look at Madame Corban, "She thinks she is in a whorehouse?"

"She is delirious with fever, lady," one of the other women said.

"They won't have it!" the girl shouted, thrashing against the covers. "They won't take my baby!"

_No! _My heart cried out for her. I tried to think. I had been insane with fever the night I had been shot. Memories had mixed with the present and all had seemed lost. I had wanted to let go..._what pulled me back?_

_Edward. _The unwanted answer came far too easily. But it was his mystique and his allure that had kept me from falling into the peaceful darkness. The taste of a possible future...

"Vera," I said fiercely, making sure she kept her eyes open. She looked at me again. "You know who I am?"

"The Noble's Lady," she choked.

"Yes," I leaned forward as her eyelids drooped. "And do you know what I do?"

"You c-care for the damned," she said, then writhed again.

Madame Corban looked up from the foot of the bed, "Try, child! Do not give in!"

"Vera," I commanded her eyes back to me. "You are right. That is what we do."

"My child won't be born to a stew!" she shouted.

"Vera! Your baby will be safe, I promise you," I tried to keep the desperation from my voice. "It will be under the protection of the Nobles, under _my _protection. No evil thing will come near your child. You are both under our protection now. Nothing will harm you, I swear it."

She looked up at me with wild eyes. I tried to look back levelly. "You are under our protection," I repeated.

"It hurts," she whimpered.

"I know," I whispered, gripping her hand tightly. "But you can do it, Vera. Do it for your child."

It took time. More time than I had imagined to be under such pain. How could such a sacred thing be so painful and messy and _long? _For over two hours Vera cried out, digging her nails into my hand and screaming as the babe wrestled its way into the waking world. Madame Corban worked tirelessly, instructing the girl and doing lord knows what else. Vera's fever worsened, and there were horrible, terrifying moments of quiet. But then it seemed to ease again, and the noise began again.

The candles were swimming in their wax when Vera gave out a mighty shout, squeezing my hand to a pulp. With one last push, she fell back onto the mattress, a sheen of sweat over her whole body.

And then...then there was the glorious sound of a tiny little baby crying.

"It is a girl," Madame Corban said softly, taking a piece of cloth from one of the women and wrapping the tiny little creature in it.

"A girl," Vera murmured, her eyes open just enough to see. "Let me hold her." I helped her to sit up a little.

Knowing she did not have the strength, Madame Corban passed the child to me, and with an immovable smile, I helped Vera to hold the little girl in her arms.

"Isabella," she whispered.

"Yes?" I said quietly, transfixed on the two tiny, petal-like eyelids.

"That is her name," Vera said, tracing the little child's face. "My Isabella." She gave a weak, delighted laugh, then, and I saw the tears rise in her eyes. Tears of a different nature this time. "Mine," she whispered, and held the child to her chest.

I bit my lip against my own tears. "I am glad you did not give in."

Vera glanced at me, "Thank you. Thank you, all of you."

Madame Corban stepped forward, "You must rest, child."

"There is one more thing I must do," she said. "I cannot let death take me before I – "

"Death will not take you!" I gasped.

But the rest of the room was quiet. Seeing her so happy, it was hard to remember the state she had been in such a short time ago. But I realized that perhaps all was not well now. Happiness did not ward away sickness; it just kept it at bay for the briefest of moments.

"What must you do?" I asked shakily.

She looked nervously at me, "May I speak to the Noble and you, my lady?"

"That is not appropriate!" one of the women exclaimed.

True enough, men were not allowed into the birthing chamber, and certainly not when the mother was in this state...

But Vera could not be denied anything. Not now.

"No," I said quietly. "If he is here, I will fetch him." I turned to the women, "Perhaps you would..." I gestured to the birthing bed. They nodded and set about finding new linen.

I made sure the babe was safe in Vera's arms before I stood, cleaned my hands and went out the door.

The hush of the corridor seemed strange after the hot, frantic dormitory. But there was no time to catch breath. Seeing no light from his office door, I headed for the hall.

I entered to find the great room filled with people once again and a fire crackling merrily in the hearth.

This time, however, as they noticed my presence, they stood, bobbing curtsies and bows. I blinked, surprised. It was then that it was easy to find Edward, standing straight and still at the head of the middle table, his fingers frozen on a map of some kind. He looked me up and down in the brief silence.

I swallowed and avoided his gaze, remembering that my dress sleeves were terribly pushed up and smudges of blood adorned my bodice and, more importantly, I was _here – _where I had vowed never to be again. But that did not matter now. The Noble's people straightened up and looked at me expectantly.

The thought of Edward was quickly silenced and I felt the smile upon my lips again, "Miss Vera has given birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl."

Sighs of relief and laughter erupted through the hall. I wished a giggle to bubble to my own lips, but Vera's own dwindling life force stopped any laugh from beginning.

I sought Edward's face again. He was already coming toward me.

"She has asked for you," I said quietly, looking at the needlework of his jerkin rather than into those damned eyes.

"For me?" I heard the frown in his voice.

I turned and walked out into the corridor. He followed quickly behind me. "Isabella," he said frustratedly, reaching for my wrist.

I snatched it out of his grasp and knocked on the dormitory door.

We were admitted into the dark and warm room. I went straight to my place on my knees next to Vera. She was still awake, her arms still managing to hold her sleeping child.

Edward lingered in the doorway. For the first time, I saw him seem a little unsure. Sebastian was right – this truly was a woman's place. "We shall leave you to your meeting, Noble," Madame Corban said, shepherding the women out.

Edward stiffly stepped by to let them pass, closing the door behind them, and then looked to where Vera and I were. Taking a breath, he seemed to assume the expression of the Noble again. "How are you feeling?" he asked her gently, crouching down next to me. His eyes were intent on her, his voice sincere.

Vera smiled shyly with cracked lips, "I have never been happier, my Lord."

Even as she said it, her eyes blinked shut. Her face was paler than ever.

"Vera," I breathed, putting my hand with hers. "You said you wished to speak with us?"

Her eyes opened a little. "Yes," she whispered, and looked down at the little babe in her arms. "I have no family. No one..." she sniffled. "And I know you are both far above me...but will you be her godparents?"

I felt Edward stiffen beside me. I myself could hardly move. _Godparents? _

She took our silence as a negative, "I am sorry," she choked. "I should not have asked – "

"Vera," I suddenly said, my hand gripping hers once more. She looked at me, tears in her eyes. "I promised you I would protect her, no matter what. I will be her godmother. I will care for her with my own life. I know I cannot speak for the Noble but – "

"No," Edward said quietly, gazing at the little child. "You were right to." He fixed his eyes on Vera. "I will care for her with my own life, as well. She will be happy and she will be safe."

Vera let out something between a laugh and a sob. "Thank you," she breathed. "I know...I know you cannot possibly be at her baptism or let her live with you but if you find a good family for her..."

"We will," Edward said, patting her hand.

Vera took a deep breath, the sweat beading on her white forehead once more. She stroked the face of her child. "Isabella," she whispered. "This is the Noble and his Lady. You will never meet two more kind or brave..." she swallowed. With shaking arms she held the child out to me.

I took her, Edward carefully tucking the blanket around the babe's tiny head.

"I love you," Vera whispered, lying back on the pillows. And then, with one final rise and fall of her chest, her eyes shut and she died.

"God bless you," I whispered, a tear sliding down my cheek.

Edward pulled me and the child into his arms by the side of the bed, placing his lips upon my head and holding us both close.

*T*L*

Vera was laid to rest that night in a hidden, desolate graveyard not far from the Noble's house. I could not go – little Isabella could not have stayed out in the cold for so long. So the women clucked around me, seating me in a chair by the fire and offering me ale which I could not stomach. Eventually, the men and women of the Noble's court departed for their beds or their homes. I sat alone in my chair, unable to look away from the sleeping child. The peace in her face lulled me into my own sleep by the dying fire.

As if by magic, I woke as she did, blinking her little eyes and looking about at the world she had been born into.

"Hello," I whispered.

Her fingers crept out from the blanket and reached for my finger, holding onto it.

I smiled, enchanted by her. "You are beautiful, sweet Isabella," I said, rocking her. "Like your mother."

"Like her Godmother." I looked to find Edward standing in the doorway, his cheeks flush from the cold, still wearing his thick black cloak. He came and knelt by us, his eyes just as transfixed on the babe as mine.

"You will grow into a great lady, I am sure," he whispered, touching her cheek. Isabella looked at him with shining blue eyes. Edward grinned. "You will."

I bit my lip, hardly suppressing my happiness. I could not understand it...and perhaps I did not want to. After all, there were so many things to be angered about, particularly to do with Edward. I was content to stay in this lull the babe had induced. Just for a little longer.

"Will we stay here tonight?" I asked softly as the baby played with his long, calloused fingers.

"No," he said, looking at the child, that light still in his eyes. "No one here has the time or resources to care for this little one. We can take her back to the manor and she can stay in the nursery with the wet nurse and the other children."

"Will the nurses not ask questions?"

Edward shook his head, "They are paid well enough not to. Besides, you would be surprised at the number of bastards who come out of the court's romances every year. They will just assume this is another."

"And then what?" I asked. "She cannot stay forever."

He frowned, "I know a few families who could take her in with the right amount of money. They're trustworthy; they would care for her..." he trailed off, and looked up at me. "But that is only if you believe it to be the right decision."

I swallowed, realizing just what he was doing – the power he was entrusting me. I took a breath, "I would wish to meet this family," I looked down at Isabella. "I swore to Vera when she was in the midst of it all that I – we would protect her."

Edward nodded, "We will."

_We, _oh, but that word had such a great fullness to it. Such meaning...

Edward sighed and rose, offering me a polite hand to get up.

The house was silent as Edward led me out a concealed backdoor to a small stable where his stallion was tethered, chewing on some hay.

I stepped back, holding the babe closer to my chest. Perhaps I could now stomach riding alone with Edward. But not with this delicate child in my arms.

"Isabella," Edward said gently, knowing my fear. "We shall ride carefully. She will be safe. Trust me."

"I do not trust _it,"_ I said, looking up at the huge beast, its big black eye staring down at me.

"He has been with me many a time and never failed me," Edward said. "And it is not good for the child to be out in the cold for so long."

Taking a breath, I raised my chin, "You'd best ride carefully."

Carefully, I handed the babe to him and then somehow managed to mount. The horse whinnied and moved a little, but I kept my calm. "Give her to me," I said quietly.

Cradling the babe's head in his large hand, he passed her up to me. I held her tightly within the warmth of my thick cloak.

My breath stilled, though, as I felt Edward climb up behind me, his chest flush against my back, his arm curling around me. This was too close. Too close when I was still so very angry and unsure of him.

"_Trotte, Domo," _he ordered.

We set off at a light trot through the black streets.

Isabella was silent until we were across the Thames, then she seemed to wake and began to cry.

"Oh," I said, rather stunned. Edward, too, seemed to have slowed the horse, and we both seemed to hesitate, not knowing what to do.

I looked at the little child's red face, screwed up as she wailed, loud for all the street to hear.

"Isabella," I whispered uncertainly. She continued. "Hush," I said, bringing her up to face me. "Hush, child...why are you crying?" But, I realized, she had so much to cry for. Her life had changed within an hour of it beginning – her mother, lost. "Oh, love," I whispered, and held her to me again, cradling her and hushing. I did not know where such skill had come from, but soon the child was quiet once more. I smiled down at her little face and prayed she did not begin again.

It was not long before we rode into the well-lit stables of my Lord Cullen's house.

Without a word, Edward aided me and the now sleeping babe in dismounting and we entered the house, much the same as we had last night.

But now I was no longer so shaken...and I knew now that Edward had always planned on giving me away to some stupid, love-silly boy.

The nursery was on the third floor, down a corridor similar to that on the second floor. Edward tapped on the door. There was a creak of a chair and a brush of fabric before a plump nanny opened the door and, upon seeing Edward, sunk into a curtsy. It was strange to see such a show of respect occur here and not with the Noble's people. This woman did so because protocol dictated it was to be so, not the true respect his people gave him.

"My Lord?" she said, looking at the child in my arms.

Behind her, the nursery was dark, the little bodies of four sleeping children rising and falling in their beds. It seemed spacious and warm; Isabella would be well cared for here, surely.

"This child needs a nanny for a few days while a home is found for her," Edward explained shortly. There were no questions.

The nanny nodded and held out her arms.

I blinked – I was going to have to say goodnight so soon?

I bent down and kissed Isabella's soft forehead, "Sleep well, little one. You're safe."

I passed her over before I couldn't let go. The nurse gave me a condescending look which showed she thought me the mother before curtsying to Edward and closing the door.

"You will make a great mother one day," Edward said softly and we descended the dark staircase.

Perhaps I ought to have simply nodded, but now the child was gone and my feelings had once again returned to me. Oh, my mind was confused, but there was one thing that I knew I was still so angry and afraid of:

"For Jacob Black's children?" my voice was but a cold whisper.

I heard him stop behind me. I turned. His hand gripped the banister, his eyes shut, his jaw taut, his face in a grimace.

"Do not deny it," I hissed. "Do not make excuses for it. Do not taunt me for it."

I stepped forward, "You wanted this."

His eyes flashed open, intense even in darkness, "I want this?" His voice was no more than a whisper.

I nodded stiffly.

His eyes glinted dangerously and in two short steps he was pressing me against the wall, his hands curled around my back, his lips taking mine, warm and soft and fervent.

I gasped, trying to formulate thought but nothing came. My hands froze only a moment before giving in and clasping the fabric of his cloak, and I pushed back, my lips just as eager. Edward felt the change in me. He ran his hand down my side, brought a hot palm to my cheek. I heard my desperate sigh, felt my fingers curl around his neck and bring him closer to me. Oh! What was this? _How _could this be? Our lips toiled and danced, and then I felt his tongue beg entrance.

How could one refuse? Oh, sweet Lord, he owned me and I had not even known. But he had no right! My anger pushed me further; my fingers clutched his hair, my mouth more urgent. He groaned and his own grip upon my hips tightened, our tongues entwining. What was this feeling inside me? Why, _how, _did anger turn into this? This wonderful, dark thing?

Abruptly, he pulled back, his breathing heavy, his eyes flaming and his lips parted, "Do you still believe I _want _you to marry that boy?"

"Stop it, then," I challenged.

He shook his head, though he looked down, as if he wished he weren't, "I will not. For the safety of us all."

"I would not betray you now!" I exclaimed. "People can change and I have!"

"'Change'?" Edward said incredulously. He stepped closer again, bearing down above me. "But you do not believe I have changed."

"_How many innocent lives did you watch go down into that basement and did nothing?"_

My heart sunk at the memory of my own words, "I did not mean what I said this morning, Edward."

"But it is true," he said.

"No," I said. "I meant what I said last night! That you were a good man!"

He shook his head, "Your leaving London with Black is for everyone's safety, including your own, from me."

"You have saved my life over and over!" I exclaimed.

He shook his head, "I have almost taken your life, Isabella." He gazed at me distantly, his voice softening, "I will not have you lain in front of me again as you were that awful night, drenched in blood and crying out in agony. I will never bring you such pain again. I bring death, Isabella. But I will not bring yours."

"Edward," I whispered, stepping close to him once more, my hand reaching to touch his cheek.

But he moved away from me. "You will marry Jacob Black," Edward said, not looking at me.

"And what of my duties as the Noble's Lady?" I asked. "The promises I've made."

He paused, still gazing at a spot on the floor, "It is not your battle," he said eventually. "As soon as your vows have been spoken you will leave this god forsaken city forever."

And with a sweep of his cloak, he descended the rest of the stairs, opened the window and leapt into the darkness. Where he was going, I did not know.

Slowly, I went to the open window, feeling the cold air upon my face. I looked down on the dark, empty street, and then out, toward where I could see the steeples and houses of London catching the white moonlight upon their stones and tiles.

I felt weak, and that pain was still in my chest.

But strangely, I found my thoughts turning away from Edward to the little newborn baby sleeping above me.

Such love I felt for her...such care...

And so I felt the memory of Edward's uncaring lips upon my own fade, instead replaced by the press of Vera's hand in mine, the quivering shoulders of the man who'd lost his sons, Jessica's shaking body after we'd escaped her old pimp...

...and the small weight of little Isabella in my arms.

My heart filled with new emotion. I realized I could not leave. Because it did not matter what Edward had commanded. It did not matter that I was an orphaned girl with no wealth to speak of. It did not even matter that I was a girl at all.

Somehow over the past week I had become attached to these people of London.

I took a deep breath, letting the wind blow my skirts and strew my hair.

I would not leave.

For this _was_ my battle.

I was the Noble Lady.

* * *

Hmmm...:)

**Please do tell me your thoughts!**

**Thanks for reading!**


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